


Torn Wings, Broken Blades

by LovelyLunacy



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5161484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyLunacy/pseuds/LovelyLunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being the best scouts that Demacia has, Quinn and Valor find themselves in Noxian territory to gather information for their nation. While in Noxus, Quinn and Noxus' own Blade's Shadow both infiltrate the Black Rose undercover, for different reasons. Both of their plans spiral out of control, and in the end, both have to choose between loyalty/creed and what they truly want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Get Ready to Duck

**(AN: Hiya, guys! I'm Lunacy and this is my first League fanfic posted to this site! It is also on fanfiction.net, but I'm looking for a wider audience!**

**A note on the content: if you know your pre-retconned lore, this fanfiction is starting previously to the Kalamanda conflict between Demacia and Noxus. This world is functioning** **as if the Institute of War and League of Legends are still a thing!** **That is no longer officially canon with Riot. Summoners and matches to resolve conflicts still exist in this world.**

**Anyway, this is my baby, so review! While ALWAYS being honest, please also be gentle and suggestions are always welcome! Enjoy! )**

On the cliffs overlooking the Conqueror's Sea, outside of the Demacian capital but not far enough to be truly free of the city, sat a small cottage that wasn't grand in the slightest. The walls were the marble of the far city, however unwashed, but the roof was dusty brown tile. There was a Demacian flag hanging outside the front door to the right side, usually a sure indicator that one or more of the occupants were in active duty with the Demacian military. All of the windows were open to let the seaside air in and while the morning was waxing into midmorning, no sound seemed to be coming from it.

The silence broke with a loud squawk, the sound of a disgruntled Demacian eagle. Quinn woke with a start at her friend's call and blinked blearily at him. "What is it, Valor?"

"Squawk." He responded seriously, sounding disapproving. The response sent her scrambling for the clock beside her bed and she groaned.

"You couldn't wake me up sooner, Valor?" She grumbled, sending him a sharp look as she started tugging her clothes on. "You knew I had a training session planned with Luxanna today!"

"Chirp, squawk." He answered disdainfully.

"I  _know_  you don't like her voice, but she's part of one of the noble houses, a fellow champion... Valor, you don't have to like being around her, but I still have to work with her."

A short chirp was her only response, but she knew well enough that she'd gotten through to him, if only a little bit.

" _Thank_  you." She said, pulling her falconer's glove on her right hand so Valor would have a place to land, if he chose. Her shoulder pads were also thick so he could sit there as well. She packed a bag with a lunch for herself, food for Valor, and a waterskin for during the practice. Grabbing her crossbow, she left while putting her headband on.

Valor soared lazily above her as she started the trek down into the edge of the city and up to the palace. She knew that Luxanna lived in the barracks, meaning she was undoubtedly at the training field already. Quinn herself had at one point, but she'd gotten complaints about Valor. He apparently made the other soldiers uncomfortable. Quinn knew that Valor had done so deliberately, because he hated the barracks, but few people believed her when she tried to tell them how intelligent the bird was.

She jogged most of the way, trying to make up for lost time, but she was still very late when she arrived at the training grounds. Just outside of the palace and run with money from the royal treasury, the training grounds were vast, with a section for every type of fighter. Any Demacian was welcome, because within a country with a mandatory military service for all able-bodied citizens, practice was also a requirement. Luxanna had told Quinn to meet her on Mixed field seven, one of the arenas that was set up for mixed practice, magic and physical. If any of the mages wanted to practice their spell-techniques, they had to use magic-friendly fields with the proper wards in place, to lower the risk of structural damage.

She got to field seven and found it deserted except for Luxanna, and the half-dragon, Shyvana, both sitting on one of the benches scattered around the edges. Lux smiled at the latecomer, her expression as brilliant as the light she worked with. "We thought you'd fallen into the sea or something." She teased.

Shyvana rolled her eyes. "You're very late." She said, a touch of derisiveness to her voice.

Quinn ducked her head a little, and Valor bristled at the half-dragon. "Sorry, guys. I won't make a habit of it."

"Oh, I know!" The Crownguard answered cheerfully. "Anyway, I've been discussing this new technique with Shyvana while we waited and she actually thinks it'll work out. We'll definitely need Valor's help though."

The eagle's bristling at Shyvana quelled, and instead was replaced with a bit of preening. Lux was one of the few who knew how to get on his good side, and that had been the first indicator to Quinn that the girl was first, more intelligent than she appeared and second, worth befriending.

As Lux explained the strategy, Quinn felt Valor land on her shoulder and his talons tighten in excitement. He was a core part of it and the attention that Lux had paid to using him to their fullest advantage was not lost on the scouting duo.

"We're going to run through it a couple of times, using these." Lux turned her eyes to the field and for the first time, Quinn noticed thin disks lying on the ground, about thirty of them. Lux sent out a small activation spell and out of the disks sprouted what appeared to be Noxian soldiers, all standing at attention, all seemingly frozen. Quinn felt very uncomfortable, until she noticed  _how_  frozen they were.

"Isn't it cool?" Lux crowed happily, beaming. "I got these from the Institute. They're about the power of superminions, with similar logic, and they're completely solid. I just changed their appearance."  
"Oh!" Quinn answered, comprehending. She wasn't as knowledgeable about magic theory as the blonde was, but Lux was well aware of both Shyvana's and Quinn's lack of understanding. She used layman's terms for them.

"All right, and... go." The Noxian's sprung into action and Quinn's instincts followed suit. She and Shyvanna braced themselves as Valor launched into the air. With a twirl of her baton, she created a ball of light not unlike her limited ability within the Institute, and Valor swooped down. He was able to pick up the ball and for now, it was harmless. He wove between the attempted shots of the automatons with ease, his sharp eyes catching every movement. Once he was above the mass of the group, even as they surged towards the Demacians, he dropped the ball. As it fell, the three women rushed forward, ducking their heads at the impact. A wave of light rushed out in all, blinding the group of makeshift Noxians. The next that their inhuman eyes could see, they were faced with the deadly assault of a bow-woman, a dragon, and light itself. In the initial burst, Quinn and Shyvana picked off four and three respectively, while Lux had burned five in a flurry of light. Shyvana waded in with Quinn covered her back, following Valor's calls with precision.

A bolt hit Quinn in the shoulder and she winced. Valor dove at the one who shot it, blinding him so Quinn could finish him off. She switched her crossbow to her right hand and fired to kill him.

Within minutes, the fight was over. Shyvana was littered with a few slashes, Quinn had her bolt injury, but Lux was unharmed. She tossed a lock of hair back, turning to the two women with a grin. "So?"

"It worked well." Shyvana allowed, but there was a pleasant gleam to her eye.

"I liked it!" Quinn agreed, and Valor chirped as he alighted on her uninjured shoulder.

Lux beamed and then sent a line of light up, an indicator for one of the healers to come to their field when available. Quinn handled her own injury, while Lux insisted that she help Shyvana clean up, much to the half-dragons good-natured irritation.

Sona Buvelle arrived at the field with a tremulous note and a silent smile. Valor offered her a chirp and she gave him a cord in response. Her etwahl started producing a gentle calming tune as she got closer, and the wounds on Quinn and Shyvana started rapidly healing.

Quinn offered the blue-haired lass a grateful smile. Out of the many members of the League, Sona was one that knew that just because someone couldn't speak, didn't mean they didn't have vibrant thoughts. Valor liked Sona great deal.

Once they were healed up, Lux asked Sona to stick around as they went through it a couple more times to decide the best way to engage and finish the fight after the lightbomb dropped. Quinn's aim got better, and the last time they went through it, they came out unscathed. Sona offered them a bit of applause then, her grin as celebratory as theirs.

"We should break for lunch." Lux said, stretching lazily. "Sona, want to eat with us?" She knew that the musician was a shy lady and the invitation would mean a lot to her. She got a smile for her efforts, and Sona made a 'wait' gesture as she hurried off to get her own lunch bag.

The three fighters plus Valor waited for her and when she returned, they all sat down to eat. While Sona wasn't able to speak, Lux made sure to include her and ask questions that could be answered with a few notes, a nod or a shake of the head.

Just as they were finishing up, a horn sounded in the distance, but it wasn't for any of them. They dallied just a little longer, and as they packed up, a younger recruit was passing the edge of the field. Lux called to him and he came over.

"What was that about?" She asked, but there was an edge of commanding authority to her voice. He snapped to attention.

"Jewels and gold have been found near Kalamanda and King Jarvan is considering sending a small troop in that direction. The DSS Excursion has been lost. The Captain of the Guard will be looking into its disappearance, but there are whispers of Noxian involvement." He reported, voice steady.

Lux pursed her lips, then nodded once. "Thank you for the information. You're dismissed."

He left and the four women didn't attempt to discuss the information. They all parted ways after goodbye pleasantries, which, as always, Shyvana was short with and Lux was a bit too long with.

Quinn walked home in the afternoon sun, humming softly as she returned to her home. Many of the younger recruits seemed to give her a wide berth as she walked past. More than a few of them thought she was a little unstable, considering that she talked to the bird and seemed to be elsewhere a good percentage of the time.

When she got back to her little hut, she vanished inside and then came back out without her weapon and with a ratty drawing pad and a piece of graphite. She climbed into the lone tree near the back of the cotaget, an old oak, and while Valor perched nearby and groomed himself, she drew. Very slowly, an image of Sona, Lux and Shyvana, all deep in conversation, filled the page.

The life of Demacia's Wings was a little lonely sometimes, but was by no means bad. 


	2. Kalamanda in Conflict

The summer waned into fall. Quinn spent her time practicing strategies with Lux, whatever the Crownguard could come up with, and taking frequent trips to the forests north of the Demacian capital. They reminded her of home, though she would have to travel much farther to reach that. She and Valor would spend weekends taking long rolling walks and practicing tracking in the peaceful wild before returning to the bustle of the military.

As September hit, the information trickling in from the front at Kalamanda got progressively more tense. Demacia and Noxus were both gathering forces and the most critical of those watching the drama blamed the mayor. While he had said he would be granting exclusive mining rights to one country, he was dallying in declaring who it was. Other city-states who had been considering trying for the right to mine the precious materials were backing up, fearful of being caught between the clashing giants when the tension came to a head.

It was common knowledge that both Garen Crownguard and Noxian Katarina Du Couteau were exempt from being summoned for League matches, as both were needed to keep the peace in the new mining town. People on both sides thought it was odd that the two were working together, but more were just grateful they were managing so well.

It was the last week in September when Quinn received a summons from Shyvana. True she and the dragonborn practiced occasionally side by side, usually brought together by Lux, but they weren't close friends. The scout wasn't concerned by the summons and she shared some of Valor's excitement at the prospect of being given a mission. They had spent the better part of the day on target practice and it wasn't until late afternoon that they started towards the palace again. Shyvana had asked to meet in the courtyard, sharing the scouting duo's preference for the outdoors.

They left the cottage about an hour before they were expected so they could turn it into a lazy walk. There were a line of merchant stands and a small coffee house on the road up to the palace and perusing the vendors' wares entertained both of them. They stopped at the coffee house and no one protested when Quinn brought the bird inside. The owner knew she and Valor well enough that no one would dare.

"Quinn, dear!" said the lady behind the counter, a short curvy woman in her late thirties with bright pink hair. Her name was Rachel and she was one of the few mages outside of any magic-using organizations in the city. The coffee house was one of the most popular in Demacia, a true tourist attraction, and Quinn frequented it because she enjoyed the atmosphere and the owner's company.

"Rachel." She greeted and Valor chirped happily. The woman peered up at the two through spectacles, focusing on the bird first.

"Ah, yes, Sharp-Eyes. I have something for you." She said, reaching under the counter. She shuffled through what sounded like several baskets before she came up with a large bready treat for Valor. She offered it to him on one palm and he took it delicately, careful not to injure her. She smiled at him, then turned her attention to Quinn. "What'll it be, country girl?" She gave Quinn a playfully hard time about being from the rural forests rather than the city and Quinn didn't mind in the slightest.

"Give me something rich, but that feels like the start of something new as well, please." Quinn answered, and the other woman brightened.

"You got it! Have a seat." Quinn nodded and moved to sit at the only table that was in a corner. It was beside one of the windows and because of that, there was a large cluster of plants crowded around it. Though, to be fair, the building wasn't suffering for want of plants. Rachel had put pots of greenery wherever she felt she could get away with it.

It was less than five minutes later when a small brown-haired boy appeared beside the table. He was about twelve, but he was short for his age. "Mom sent this." He said, setting down a mug in the shape of a penguin. "And this." He set a wildcat mug beside it, one with just water, for Valor. "I hope you like it!" He offered her a bright smile and vanished off as quickly as he'd come.

Quinn picked up the mug and gently blew on it to cool it. The contents were brown and the aroma was definitely chocolate, but with something else. When she finally took a sip, she was pleasantly surprised by the taste. There was an edge of mint, swirls of spices, definitely something that made a person perk up. Keeping in mind her time constraint, Quinn drank it slowly enough to thoroughly enjoy it, but quickly enough that it hadn't cooled too much by the time she reached the dregs of it.

She stood and left money on the table, probably more than the drink had cost, then waved at Rachel before she continued out and up towards the palace once more. She arrived at the courtyard fifteen minutes early and found the courtyard occupied by a couple upper-class citizens, a few soldiers relaxing, but no Shyvana. She settled to wait on one of the plainer of the ornate benches placed under trees here and there.

No one approached her and she was quickly lost in her own thoughts. The courtyard, with its decorative fountains, the surrounding grand castle, the tall trees trimmed to perfection, the flowers that would have never grown here naturally... All of it was flooring, but no where near as overwhelming as it had been when she'd first gotten here. It had only been five years ago, about, when she had come to the capital from her home in the rural forests and plains. She'd been initially dismissed because of her origins, but she had proved herself through talent and determination. The dreams that she and her brother had harbored pushed her forward, through every hardship, because if Caleb could not attain knighthood, then she would get there for both of them. Reaching the dream that she had shared with her twin, the one that he had died striving for, was her dearest goal.

_She hadn't realized buildings could be so big, rivaling trees in height. She worried about their stability, but people wouldn't walk so carelessly beside them if that was a real risk. Valor scrunched down on her shoulder, obviously shaken by the number of people, the drastic change in environment._

" _Nervous, Val?" She said, teasing him to calm his nerves and hers._

_He made an irritated noise and sat up a little straighter, determined to be his namesake._

_She chuckled, though a little nervously. She'd gotten directions to the military headquarters from that nice lady at the coffee shop, so she was trying to keep her mind sharp despite the stress of the new environment._

_When she arrived, she was somehow relieved that the person at the main desk was a bright-eyed blonde girl, probably about her age. "Hi." She managed, and the stranger looked up. Her blue eyes immediately locked on the bird._

" _I don't know if he's allowed to be in here..." She said, confusion in her voice.  
"He behaves well. He fights with me." Quinn answered, though she hadn't really thought this far ahead._

" _Fights with you?"_

" _Yeah. I'm here to sign up for active duty."_

Quinn was jerked out of the memory by Valor shifting on her shoulder, dragging her attention to the approaching half-dragon, whose face was all-business.

"You have an assignment." Shyvana said, without a greeting. It was pretty average for her to skip niceties. "You're being sent to Kalamanda to help Garen Crownguard maintain the peace between the Noxian and Demacia forces."

Quinn stood, belatedly coming to attention in the presence of a higher-ranked officer. "Yes, Shyvana. When will I be leaving?"

Shyvana blinked, a touch of discomfort to her. She didn't like the rush of these orders, it made her feel like the tension at the front at been underrepresented. It was obviously much more serious if Garen was sending for their best scout. "Tomorrow. You'll be traveling through the Mages' Guild. They're going to teleport you most of the way."

Quinn didn't like the sound of that, if only because she was now filled with a sense of urgency. She nodded, determination the only thing she allowed on her face.

"Be there at dawn." Shyvana said, crossing her arms. "And... good luck." The last part was said begrudgingly, but it was something these humans seemed to expect. And, though she would never admit it, she meant it this time.

Quinn nodded as the half-dragon turned to go and she was left with a mixture of excitement and concern. That she was being sent for meant worlds to her self-esteem, but it also meant that things were getting worse in Kalamanda. She worried for her fellow Demacians but at least she would be able to make a difference at the front, instead of at home gnashing her teeth.

The champion known as Demacia's Wings opened her eyes to plains. In the far distance, she could see the Great Barrier mountains, and Mount Gargantuan to the right. She was about two day's travel, if one were pressed, south of the Institute of War, and one day away from Kalamanda. Valor shuddered on her shoulder, feeling a little ill after the magical transportation, but he was getting his bearings quickly.

"Come on, Val. We can't keep them waiting." The scout encouraged and without a moment of hesitation more, launched himself into the air. Quinn started forward at a brisk pace, listening for Val's warnings, indicators, and landmark calls. The eagle soared gracefully above his friend, sharp eyes scouring the landscape for threats

They stopped around midday to eat what they had with them, then continued. In the second half of the day, Quinn alternated between her brisk walk and a light jog, eager to get there. As the town camp in sight, nestled near the pass under the shade of the mountains, so did the two armies. Quinn had assumed they were small troops, enough to fight and defend with, but these were almost full-fledged armies ready for battle, tense with their sworn enemies so near.

Quinn eyed the Demacian camp and went to the entrance, situated the entire town's length away from the Noxian. At the front, one of the younger soldiers recognized her and after a quick word to his comrade, took her to the largest tent in the encampment. Within, the giant form of Garen Crownguard stood at a makeshift table with three lesser generals. She remained silent out of respect, listening in on the plans for the next couple of weeks, and as Garen dismissed the three, he took notice of her.

"Quinn." He greeted, moving forward and dismissing the boy who had led her here. "I have an assignment for you, one perfect for a scout of your talent."

Valor straightened, listening as intently as his friend, to Garen's description of the task.


	3. Unpleasant, Necessary

**AN: Note that this chapter is starting a couple weeks earlier than the previous one, but ending at the same time. Thanks to everyone that is following and reviews are appreciated! It helps me keep going! Also, Talon doesn't join the league until AFTER Du Couteau goes missing, so as of right now, he is not a champion in the League. Everyone else is, however, unless otherwise stated. Cassiopeia's retconned lore due to the Shurima update is being used here because I feel like it won't heavily impact the story and because I'm trying to stay as canon as physically possible. (I may be a Shurima fangirl as well, but I won't tell if you won't!)**

The house of Du Couteau within the walls of Noxus was a grand thing, with great rising walls and lovely decorative moulding. The fence surrounding the property was metal, twisted into beautiful cruelty around the building, with sharp tips to dissuade anyone who would consider scaling it.

Within, the house was quiet except for the kitchen. Music from the latest Pentakill album poured from it, with a certain half-snake woman slithering to and fro between counter, pantry and oven. Considering the hour, she was probably making breakfast.

Cassiopeia Du Couteau, youngest daughter of the honorable general, was both a morning person and the house's cook, mostly because no one was willing to argue with her about it and her cooking was pretty good besides. The general and Katarina were usually too busy with politics to cook and the thought of asking Talon was laughable to everyone in the household due to inexperience. Since Cassiopeia's unfortunate... accident in Shurima, cooking seemed to be her favorite hobby. Due to her new appearance, she couldn't bear to leave the household without good cause, such as League matches or if her sister coaxed her.

Without those, she was a homebody, amusing herself by cooking and crafting. The scent of apples and cinnamon was beginning to fill the kitchen and as the Serpent's embrace eyed the timer, she slid to the doorway and cast her gaze down the hall. At the end of the back hallway, there was a small door to the bladework practice room. From inside, she could hear the clinking and thuds of blade practice. The sounds were enough to indicate that it was Talon and not the general using the room. If Katarina hadn't been away at Kalamanda, Cassiopeia might have guessed her.

"Talon! Breakfast is ready!" She called, her tone authoritative to give him more incentive to come at the first calling and not the fourth or fifth, as he usually did. As she returned to the oven to remove the muffins she'd so carefully prepared, she heard the door down the hall open and close, and then Talon appeared soundlessly in the doorway.

"What poison is it this morning?" He asked, lounging against the frame. His little sarcastic barbs amused her and that was the only reason he did it – he respected both the serpent and her father too much to upset either of them.

"Apple-cinnamon muffins. The cinnamon is from Ionia." She said, rolling her eyes, but smiling all the while. "Can you take one up to Father when you finish eating?" Stairs weren't fun for the half-snake and she didn't have to specify why she asked. He didn't answer, just snagging a muffin with nimble fingers. He sat on the nearest clean counter surface as she moved to remove the muffins from the tin onto a decorative plate.

Cassiopeia was probably the only one who was acutely aware of Talon's love of food. She guessed it was due to his upbringing, or lack thereof, and that's why she always called him first when food was ready. He never admitted that he appreciated it, but the snake knew. In a similar fashion, Cassiopeia and Katarina would likely never admit how much they'd come to like the little street urchin assassin that their father had brought into their home.

As Cassiopeia cleaned, Talon sat in companionable silence with the woman he'd come to view as a sister. When he finished his muffin, he grabbed another for himself and then wrapped two in a napkin for the general.

He climbed the grand staircase in the main hall, making his way to the General's study. It was another thing he wouldn't admit, but he'd actually been worrying about the general lately. The man seemed to be focused on some personal research, pouring over papers late into every night. All the Blade's Shadow knew of the research was that it involved Kalamanda and an organization called the Black Rose, but he didn't dare pry.

He knocked on the door and waited for the gruff "enter" to come. When it did, he entered soundlessly, left the food offering on a clear space of desk and moved to leave.

"Talon." The general stopped him, looking up from his research. The younger assassin paused and turned to him, his immediate attention proof enough of his respect. "Katarina is handling things in Kalamanda, as you well know, but she's requested a bit of back up. I can't go myself, so I'm sending you."

"To Kalamanda?" He asked, voice flat. He was a little surprised.

General Du Couteau nodded. "Will that be a problem?"

"Of course not. Consider it done. I'll leave today." Talon answered, half-bowing to the general, who turned from him with another nod. After a moment, he passed the younger man a small map.

Talon went to his room to pack. He had more material items in his life now than he ever had before, but he still knew how to pack lightly. A couple changes of clothes, a new array of small blades that Katarina had given him, blade-cleaning oil and sharpening stone, and various other small things. After that, he headed back to the kitchen and on to the dining area, where Cassiopeia seemed to be embroidering new place mats for the dining table. Each one would be personalized.

"I'm going to Kalamanda." He announced quietly. Cassiopeia looked up and frowned. "Katarina sent for assistance. I'm sure I won't be gone long." He had never thought in his life that he would reassure someone about an absence.

Cassiopeia still seemed displeased, but she rose from the chair she was in. "Let me pack you food for the road." While the phrasing was politely suggesting, her tone was anything but. He sighed and followed her into the kitchen. She packed a bag of food and passed it to him, crossing her arms and staring at him pensively. "Be careful out there." She said, trying to keep her voice formal. "And remind Katarina to contact us as often as possible. If he's not too busy dealing with that large Demacian brute." She waved one of her hands dismissively.

He gave a nod in response and left the building. He knew how to get out of Noxus without his passing being seen. Once he left the city, he used the map to travel but the terrain further out became more difficult. Within the bonds of the city, he was precise, perfect in his movements. Outside of Noxus, however... He struggled a bit more. The woods and plains were not his natural environment, though he preferred the former to the latter.

He would sleep in trees or hidden in brush when he stopped. He avoided the Institute, adding another day to his trek, but he felt it was worth it to avoid the miniature city and its boisterous nature. He wasn't caught up in the fame of those who participated in the League, and he had no interest in it.

His arrival to the outskirts of Kalamanda wasn't noticed by anyone but a lazily circling eagle that seemed out of place. He took himself to the Noxian camp and was completely invisible to those around him until he found Katarina in her tent, pouring over papers in obvious frustration.

"You called for assistance?" He asked, sounding bored.

Katarina jumped. "God damn it, Talon! Make some noise or something. Ugh..." She stood up, crossing her arms tightly and turning her full irritated gaze on him. "Dad sent you?" His silence was her only answer. She sighed. "I'd prefer you to Cas, to be honest, and this job is more up your alley anyway. I have a task for you, to keep the peace and reassure those here."

She explained quickly, giving orders in almost the exact same manner as the general. And Talon would follow them, almost as closely as if they came from Marcus Du Couteau himself.


	4. Kin-Killers

**(AN: This is a darker chapter in the beginning, so make sure you're ready for that! Quinn has an extreme dislike for Noxians, more so than her fellow Demacians, and there's a good reason for it! Remember that reviews encourage me, and follows thrill me!)**

Quinn hated Noxians.

" _Caleb, this isn't funny anymore," Quinn called. She was much younger, only nine, with eyes that were wide, innocent, but somehow daring. In the forests near her home, she searched for her twin. They'd started out playing "save the damsel," trading out portraying the helpless victim while the other fought off imaginary dragons, dark beasts, or even just enemy soldiers. They had very little concept of gender roles, so they both played each role equally. After they tired of that game, Quinn had suggested hide and seek. After all, she'd argued, they might have to find a bad guy who got away one day._

_The twins had knight fever. For as long as they could form words, the stories their father told about knights, the Dauntless Vanguard, the heroes of Demacia captivated them. They wanted to be heroes one day. They wanted to be knights who championed for justice and for the weak, renowned fighters whose names the world recognized. Their games were centered around this aspiration, they hounded anyone in town who had any fighting experience, they practiced (carefully because of parental chiding) with whatever weapons they could get their hands on, and their dreams were filled with triumph, victories in battle side by side. They had already discovered their strengths. Quinn had a natural talent with the crossbow; Caleb wielded a sword almost his height with what promised to be an unusual strength and grace. While out in the woods, however, they were only allowed to carry weakened forms of what they preferred. Caleb had a wooden sword, and Quinn's crossbow was only allowed dulled wooden bolts with the power in the shot drastically underpowered._

_She had hidden first and Caleb had found her quickly, but she was struggling to find her brother. It had been an hour, at least. She was starting to get frustrated, and more than a little worried. A sense of dread was building in her tiny chest and she couldn't figure out why. The sound of voices drifted to her ears on the wind and she focused on that, following the faint noise until she found Caleb facing a much older man, who definitely wasn't from their village._

" _Caleb?" She asked, frowning as she approached cautiously. She was trying to decide if the man was a threat, and she knew they weren't supposed to talk to strangers. He was wearing a dusty gray hood, with only his lower face visible. There was a tense, displeased set to his mouth, and her approach clearly made him unhappy._

" _Quinn, this is Mister... uh..." He looked to the man in perplexity, because he realized that he'd never been given a name._

" _Nevermind that." The man said, and his tone was drastically changed from what he had been using on the boy earlier. "You were telling me where to find Orion Laurent."_

" _Old man Laurent's first name is Orion?" Quinn asked, frowning._

_Caleb shrugged a little, jerkily out of nervousness. The man's change in disposition was worrisome. His sister picked up on it and she didn't like it. "We aren't supposed to talk to strangers." She said assertively, crossing her arms. "We need to go home. Come on, Caleb." She said, gesturing to her brother. He nodded, accepting his sister's decision without question._

_They turned to leave and Quinn felt a rough hand descend on her jacket collar, jerking her back. Immediately, fear and adrenaline filled her. "Let go!" She demanded, though she fought against showing fear. Knights didn't show fear._

" _Tell me where Laurent is and I'll let you go." He said, tugging her closer to him. Caleb had spun back around to face them, and he understood the situation quickly. And he understood that, no matter what the man said, he probably wasn't going to let them go. He drew his wooden sword._

" _Let her go." He ordered, taking a somewhat balanced fighting stance. It was obviously imperfect, but advanced for his years. His eyes shifted to Quinn's for a split second. She understood: even when one was the damsel, they should never just sit idle._

_The man chuckled. "Put down the toy, kid." He jerked at Quinn's jacket collar again and she swallowed a squeak._

_Caleb braced himself, and his mind pulled at every story of courage he had ever heard, every tale of Demacian knights fighting for glory. He remembered a phrase from one story his father told, the battle cry of the hero, and he shouted, "For valor!" while charging the older man, bringing his wooden sword down. Just as he did, Quinn twisted out of her jacket, turning to face them. The assassin had taken damage to one half of his face from the harsh thud of the dull wooden sword, but hadn't been dissuaded much. He disarmed the boy and grabbed his shoulder. "QUINN RUN!"_

_Quinn faltered, but turned and ran. She'd only gotten ten yards before she heard a cry of pain from behind her, and she stopped to look back. Her brother was standing, but a sharp blade protruded from his back. It took her a moment to understand that the blade was coming through him from the other side and in that time, the assassin removed it. Caleb fell. Quinn felt a scream in her throat, but as the man turned to her, she found her legs carrying her back to the village, back to her home, and even there, her voice didn't return to her quickly._

_Over the next few days, the assassin was caught and hung. Laying in her bed at night, she could hear the adults talking about Noxians. He had been from Noxus. And Noxians were murderers, barbarians. Kin-killers._

She'd hated Noxians for years and now she sat at a camp with one, staring over a fire at him. The hatred gathered like bile in her mouth and she struggled to swallow it, to ignore it. It was only until Kalamanda's mayor announced who got the mining rights. It was a mission, an order from her country, for her country. She had to do it.

Her mission was simple. Both she and the delegate from Noxus were supposed to watch the mine and the two nexuses that had been discovered. They were only to make sure that no one was slipping into the mine or getting too close to the nexuses at night. This required sharp eyes, sharp senses, and someone who could hold their own. Both Noxus and Demacia had sent one. For Demacia, it was Quinn. For Noxus, it was Talon.

Quinn had been briefed on the Noxian. He was loyal to house Du Couteau, one of the oldest in Noxus. The current leader of the High Command, their governing body, was General Marcus Du Couteau. Talon had once been a terror to the streets of Noxus, killing every person sent to put him in line, until the general defeated him. From what Garen had told her, Quinn had gathered a decent amount of information about the assassin. Even now, she observed him through the cloud of hate, seeing a potential threat, a predator, a being of lethal grace.

Katarina had likewise given Talon a bit of info on his companion during the time. He knew she a was a girl from a rural village that had fought her way to the top, and Katarina had warned him that she was stronger than she looked. Talon's nature hadn't allowed him to care much about the info given. He could kill her easily should the need arise. He was acutely aware of her across the fire, watching him for what he assumed was anything threatening. She looked weak, and the bird at her shoulder didn't bother him at all.

Quinn shifted her gaze now and again, and she dwelt on his allegiances, his nationality, for several long minutes. She hated the situation until the hate almost consumed her, and then Valor shifted on her shoulder. It caused her to shift in turn and with that came a shift in mindset. She was stuck here every night until this conflict was resolved. She couldn't spend every night consumed in hatred, and she hated uncomfortable silence. She didn't have to like him, but she did have to work with him. And hadn't she just given Valor similar advice not too long ago? She took a breath to speak. "I'm Quinn. This is Valor."

Talon had assumed she was going to spend the entire night glaring at him, and he'd felt a vague irritation at the thought of wasting his time here night after night in boredom. At her words, his gaze shifted up to her, though she probably couldn't see it. "I know who you are." He answered, with an edge of contempt to it.

Quinn bit her tongue in an attempt to not get riled. Of course he knew. Noxus would not have sent him here completely blind. Valor rubbed his head against the side of hers and that quelled her wrath. She decided to try again. "Usually, a person responds with their name. Don't you have one?"

"Not one that you need to know." came the quick response. He drew a blade and a sharpening stone, causing her to tense. Lazily, he started whetting the blade against the stone.

Quinn felt her irritation grow. "It's Talon, right? Are all Noxians this rude?"

"Are all Demacians this sensitive?"

She bit the inside of her cheek and took slow, quiet breaths. She couldn't kill him. Valor sensed her wrath and that made his eyes sharpen and focus in on the Noxian. Talon noticed, but deigned not to care. Though, somehow, he got the distinct feeling that the bird was weighing his worth. It was... a touch disconcerting.

She spent another couple hours in silence, dissuaded from her attempts. She checked her crossbow several times, toyed with her bolts, and thought a lot. After a while, Valor chirped at her and she perked up. "Well, what do you want to talk about?"

Talon shifted, frowning. "I don't-"

"Not you. Valor." She corrected him quickly, sending him a disparaging look. "Don't interrupt. It's rude."

Talon managed not to stare at her in shock, but he was a little taken off guard. He couldn't help overhearing the conversation that this woman had with her pet bird. She seemed to be discussing hunting strategy – in depth. And the most uncomfortable part of it was that it sounded very much like he was answering her. The noises from the bird were varied and different, and even seemed to have intonation.

He was so taken aback by the thought of this that he didn't realize that he could have been taking mental notes about her while she was talking. She could have been spewing government secrets this entire time and he wouldn't have absorbed a word of it. He started focusing more on what she was saying and soon enough, the sky started lightening. Once the sky was a periwinkle shade, Quinn stood and stretched. "Valor, see what's going on up there." She said, and the bird moved to her forearm. She thrust him up into the air, he took flight with the added momentum, and lazily circled the area. After a few minutes, he came back down to alight on her shoulder, reporting that the area was empty.

"I'm going to head back to sleep." Quinn said, half-waving at Talon as she strolled away. "See you tonight, I guess." She returned to the tent that was temporarily hers and bedded down for the night. She made a small bed beside hers for Valor out of her jacket and other clothes she carried around for t"his exact purpose.

Talon returned to the Noxian camp a little later, and found Katarina just leaving her tent. "Talon." She greeted, offering him a smile. "How was it? Have any meaningful talks with the Demacian?"  
"Of course not." He snorted, shaking his head. "But... She was talking to her pet bird..."  
Katarina chuckled. "I've heard that she's a quirky one, from Demacians no less."

"Kat, I think the bird was answering her." He suggested, deadpan but also haltingly.  
Katarina blinked at him. "I think you need to go to bed, Talon. I know you've been up a while, but..."

"No, listen. The bird makes noises in response to what she says. Different noises."

"Animal mimicry. Go to bed, Talon."

He shook his head, but agreed. "You're probably right." He went to his tent and fell into a sleep. A light one that allowed him to wake any time someone passed too close to his tent.

–

A few weeks passed like this. As November hit, Talon was used to listening to Valor and Quinn's talks in silence while he toyed with his blades. Quinn suggested at one point that they make hourly rounds around the territory to guarantee security, changing up the times so they didn't get too predictable. Even for a Demacian, it was a good idea, and while she got no verbal response, he accompanied her on these walks. That was enough to assure her that he respected that idea, at least, and that she was getting to him a little bit.

It was mid-November, late one night, when he was again listening to Quinn and Valor discussing stratagem. "I guess hiding behind a tree would work best for that, Valor. If you're distracting from the front, I can get behind them. Then an easy shot and they're dead."  
"That wouldn't work. Any fighter worth their salt would hear you walking. Dead leaves make a lot of noise." Talon interjected distractedly, polishing his favorite old blade for the tenth time this month.

Both Quinn and Valor turned to him in surprise. They were silent for a second as Talon realized his mistake and Quinn wisely didn't point it out, instead just responding, "No, you're right. Any suggestions for where else I could sneak behind them?"

Talon was mentally kicking himself for speaking at all, but now it had happened and he was being asked something he felt he knew a lot about. He couldn't resist responding, "The trees. Sturdy branches don't make as much noise and you would get the drop on them."  
"Literally get the drop on them." She quipped and Valor made a noise akin to chuckling. Talon had both come to terms with the fact that Valor spoke and understood them, and gotten very used to it.

He rolled his eyes, managing not to chuckle. If it had been Cassiopeia, he would have, but it was a Demacian stranger.

"That's a good idea. Thanks for the input. I'm always trying to improve!" She shifted positions, sitting up a little straighter and looking up at the sky. "It's about time to do the circle again. Come on."

Talon stood up to walk with her. Valor took flight to circle the area from above, calling down indicators now and again. Talon was beginning to recognize what noises meant "all clear" and "movement over here," and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

Now that Quinn had an in, she kept asking for input for this made-up scenario in her head. As they walked, he answered her questions as shortly as possible, berating himself for ever speaking at all. The berating grew less as he had to focus on harder and harder questions.

When dawn hit, Quinn's goodbye was friendlier. Talon went to bed with a sinking dread in his gut, and Quinn went to bed with hope that she was getting somewhere in making a friend, or at least a more amiable coworker.


	5. The Rival Guards of Kalamanda

**AN:  Some notes about the chapter: I tried to limit how long we were all stuck in Kalamanda, because that was a very long conflict. Second, if you're getting KatXGaren hints, well, uh, you're right. I ship the two a bit and with all the little hints involving other champions, it's not a far-off pairing. Third, as of right now, Cas is an "ill shut-in" in Noxus, so no one has seen her since the "accident". Neither she nor Talon are champions yet, but they will be soon! Fourth, Snowdown is their world's version of Christmas, and I have it on the tenth of December. Fifth, finally, reviews are, as always, welcome and wanted. Always tell me how you guys feel, positive and negative!**

Being dragged into the strategy discussions became a nightly occurrence for the assassin. At first, he wasn't happy about it, tried to keep his answers short, and even tried to be mocking in some of his replies, all to dissuade her from her association attempts.

Quinn knew he was rebelling against talking to them, but she didn't see an end to the Kalamanda conflict in the near future. Both of them were a part of it, loyal to their nations, but they weren't frontliners, they weren't as tightly interwoven as other soldiers. Quinn stood apart because she was a scout, and odd. Talon was separated because he didn't, and had never, served his nation's military. Even the assignment of guard duty separated them from the daily ins and outs of the conflict. They guarded at night and then slept most of the day away, when the other soldiers were active, when the city was active. Because of this mutual isolation, Quinn determined that she would find interaction with someone to keep her amused, and he was the only candidate. So despite the mockery, the short replies, every action he took to keep the interactions nonexistent, she pushed for more.

Her efforts paid off, just a little. His responses slowly got more in-depth, and he sometimes contributed before being asked. He could see that he had fallen, but he combated that thought with the self-assurance that this was harmless. Talon's opinion of her actually rose, though he wasn't consciously aware of that. She proved her intellect with every sentence, and proved her wisdom with the constant assurance that while it seemed like she was prepared for anything, she knew that she wasn't actually. He even started understanding a bit more of what Valor put in, and when he didn't, he sometimes asked, though that was a rare thing.

It was on one of these nights, discussing another potential scenario, when Valor issued a warning cry. Both Quinn and Talon were up in an instant, armed and ready to kill, when Katarina entered the ring of firelight, hands up in a show of good faith. "Good eyes." She said to Valor, whose gaze was boring holes into her with sheer intensity. "Garen should be here later, but I thought I would give you a head's up." She turned her eyes to Talon. "The mayor of Kalamanda has decided to let every city-state interested mine for a set amount of time every day, while he deliberates on who gets the mining contract." Her tone indicated that she didn't think the decision was wise, but she wasn't in power here. "This won't effect either of you very much. You'll probably see the last of the Zaunite miners at the day's end when you're just getting here."

Quinn looked suspicious, but then remembered that Katarina was also actively working to keep the peace. She disliked the girl about as much as she disliked every other Noxian, but Garen had spoken highly of her in a few instances, and every other thing she had heard was positive. Quinn deemed her trustworthy in this instance. She sat back down. "Seems a little foolish. That will only raise the tensions." She commented. Valor responded with a reaffirming squawk.

"For a Demacian, you're fast. Garen and I agree on that point as well, but neither of us are the mayor of Kalamanda." She crossed her arms. "The mayor wouldn't have ever made it in Noxus." She paused, contemplating, then added, "Or Demacia." Her attention switched to Talon. "I need to speak to you. Alone. Let's take a walk."

Talon nodded, following after her as she walked off. After a decent space between them and the camp was established, Katarina started speaking, "Cas is doing okay, Dad's doing okay. I talked to them this evening. Cas did express a bit of concern over whatever it is that Dad is researching, but nothing is going wrong there."  
The man nodded, pleased to hear news from home, though he would have never asked for it.

"Dad's really unhappy with how the mayor is handling this, though. He thinks it will result in unnecessary bloodshed for Noxus. And the others. You aren't getting to see how tense it's getting between the armies. Even the citizens of the village are choosing sides." She made a frustrated noise. "Any city-state could benefit greatly from the mining deposits, or the nexuses, but I'm beginning to just wish the Institute would step in and claim the nexuses. Maybe even the mines. I don't think the materials are going to be worth all the man hours wasted here and, if fighting happens, the lives lost. If it were for control of Kalamanda, maybe, because having this choke point at the pass would be worth it, but it's just for mining rights."

Talon was pensive for a moment, then asked, "Why do you think the Institute hasn't stepped in? It occurs to me that they have the power to do so. And instead of letting this foolish mayor dally the days away, risking his village and the lives of other city-states, why not let the champions of all the city-states decide who gets the rights."

Katarina chuckled. "Dad suggested the same thing. He said that all the city-states should prove their strength on the battlefields there instead of here. The strongest should get the rights, but we can't force the mayor or the Institute's hands." She shrugged. "So we wait. How is your job here? Is the Demacian as weird as her fellow Demacians say?"

Talon hesitated, then answered, "She is odd. She speaks to that bird of hers a great deal and I'm still half-convinced he's answering. But she is bright. She would be a difficult opponent if I had to outsmart her." He shrugged. "But then again, she is Demacian and I would defeat her."

Katarina scoffed. "I'm sure the bird is just making noises back at her. I'm glad you're getting a feel for her – you might be fighting her in coming months if the order of this place dissolves." She patted his shoulder. "It's good to have you here. I wouldn't trust any of the brute soldiers here to notice anyone sneaking by here. And start wearing more layers. It's getting colder at night." Her voice had changed to the one she used when she was chiding Cassiopeia for something little but somehow important. He rolled his eyes in response, but she knew he would do as she asked.

She walked him back close enough to the camp, then left. Quinn and Valor were talking more quietly as he returned. He hesitated before sitting down. "It about time to do the circle." He commented, his tone bored. They hadn't scouted the area for at least an hour.

Quinn nodded and rose. She and Valor were both silent during the round, and Talon was surprised to find that he didn't like that at all. The silence seemed consuming and he wondered what caused it, what she was thinking. He knew he should just be grateful for some silence, but he couldn't help but find it unnerving now that he had it, worrisome. Valor never even made a noise when he circled the area from above. The silence extended until Garen arrived to tell Quinn pretty much what Katarina had told them. After that, it continued.

Talon took to observing her closely, because he had little else to do with the chatter from the two scouts absent. Quinn pulled a old ratty notebook from her bag and seemed to be writing in it. A journal, perhaps? Then he corrected himself. She was definitely drawing, but what was she drawing? The assassin found himself filled with curiosity, and had no way of satisfying it. When she packed it back up at dawn, and offered him a quiet goodbye, the curiosity still frustrated him.

As the two scouts returned to Demacian base camp, Valor wondered idly why his best friend had been sketching out the Noxian man with such care.

–

The mining started the next day and within a week, the two guards could see a difference. They saw the Zaunite miners leave at night with their machinery, but they seemed to leave a taint on the land. When Quinn and Talon made their rounds, they were able to see the effects in dead patches of grass, dying trees, earth that was rapidly becoming useless. It didn't bother the Noxian, but Quinn didn't take well to it.

"They're causing damage to the area." Quinn commented to Valor, bright eyes flashing with anger. "I'm sure they're getting the most product out of their time, but it's costly on the environment. I'll have to report this to Garen."

"It doesn't matter. You don't live here." Talon interjected, his head tilted enough that she could see half of his face in the moonlight, but still not his eyes. She'd joked with Valor that he probably didn't have any.

"But someone does." She said, halting their walk and spinning to face him. "There are many living beings that make this area their home, human and animal alike, and allowing dangerous mining effects to poison it... It's wrong."

He'd never seen her so fired up. It was at odds with the calm collected woman that was all he had experienced so far. Part of him was uneasy about this new development, but the part of him that was acutely a hunter of humans was intrigued. He'd never seen her fight, never seen her get riled, but she was a soldier in the Demacian military. There had to be something more passionate about her. "And who are you to police the mortality of others?" He asked, wondering if he could prod at the flame and receive reaction.

Her amber eyes seemed to flare. "If no one holds a person accountable and they do not hold themselves accountable, then they will make life difficult for the rest of us. Though I guess I can't expect someone of your kind to understand what morality even is."

He was unbothered by the words, just becoming more curious. "What is my kind, exactly?"

Quinn's wrath flared a bit more. "Noxians. Kin-killers. You have no morality, so you don't understand it." With that, she stalked off, to finish the circle ahead of him.

Talon hadn't expected to be bothered by what she said, but the phrase kin-killers brought up a face in his mind's eyes. A boy with a dirty face and messy hair. He cast the thought away with a scowl, finishing the circle after her. She sat in angry silence for the remainder of the night, not even conversing with Valor. The bird kept shooting him dirty looks. Definitely also angry. And somehow, he was angry too, even though he knew he shouldn't let such things bother him.

When dawn relieved them of their watch, Quinn went to Garen to talk about the effects of the Zaunite mining. She was forceful enough in her request that he see something done that he got an audience with the mayor himself. Quinn scouted the area during the day to see the full effects of the mining and the visible damage disgusted her. Valor reacted similarly.

She accompanied Garen on the emergency meeting with the mayor, laid out her findings when asked, and then sat back as deliberations happened.

Talon returned home to sleep, but he had bloody dreams of the Noxian streets and what it felt like to kill a friend. When he woke, he was in poorer spirits than he had been before he slept. Katarina noted his mood as he left the camp, but she didn't question him on it just yet. She knew his moods tended to fluctuate and she couldn't throw stones with a clear conscience.

Quinn was at the base camp before he was, and he didn't see any sign of leaving Zaunite miners, which made him a touch suspicious. If he had grief with someone, he tended to remove the source, but he didn't think that Demacians were so practical. Then again, she was odd.

She glanced up at him as he sat on his side of the fire. She seemed pensive, thoughtful, and when he sat down, she cleared her throat. "I'm... sorry." She said, though it came out tensely. She didn't like that she was apologizing to a Noxian, but now that she had had time to think about what had happened, and how she had handled it, she knew she had reacted a little more violently than she needed to.

He was more than a little surprised, but it didn't show. He scoffed. "For?"

She sighed. "For being rude." She said, her patience stretched a little thin, but still within reasonable means.

Talon chuckled once, though it was mostly humorless. "Your little outburst did not bother me."

Quinn sighed, leaning back. Valor fixed him with a sharp look and he got the distinct impression that the bird knew that her words  _had_  bothered him – as much as he hated it.

She didn't speak again until they made their first circle around the area. On the way around, she commented, "The Zaunites are forbidden from mining, and lost their chance at the contract, because of the damages."

Talon frowned. "It's only been a day."

Quinn nodded and there was a little pride to her expression. "I went to Garen Crownguard and insisted that the mayor be informed. When he saw the damage already done, it was enough to convince him to revoke their right to mine."

Talon was a little impressed at her sticking power, and how much her words seemed to matter to the head Demacian. She'd shoved her will into reality.

Quinn resumed the night as per usual, dragging the poor Noxian into a conversation about how to handle a fight versus two or more in a rocky, unstable area. She gestured at Mount Gargantuan as an example. While the conversation was as energetic on her part as it usually was, his responses were back to very distant. He had tuned her out for a moment, lost in thought, when he noticed silence had fallen over the little encampment they shared. He glanced up and noticed that Quinn had dozed off.

Frowning at this completely out of character development, Talon wondered if she'd been drugged or if there was something coming through the air, but he seemed to be unaffected. Finally, he noted the slight shadow under her eyes and realized that she probably hadn't slept in her crusade to save the Kalamanda lands from mining damage. He chuckled softly and shook his head, entertaining the thought of killing her for showing such weakness. It would lead to a great deal of retaliation from the Demacian military, setting off the battle that was likely on the horizon anyway. His eyes moved back over to her and he noticed Valor's sharp eyes fixed on him again, though this time they were vaguely threatening. While he would never be fearful of a mere  _animal_ , he was a little uneasy at that look.

When dawn started creeping over the horizon, he hesitated, wondering if he should wake her. Valor seemed to watch him expectantly, though remained silent. He heavily considered just returning to the Noxian camp, but even as he moved to do that, he found himself moving over to the woman. Valor watched him as he jostled her shoulder once and in an instant, Talon found himself on the other end of her crossbow.

Quinn blinked, registering who she was staring at a little slowly. Because of the angle, she could see his face more clearly than she ever had before and she noted his eyes were similar to hers, except instead of burning amber, his were closer to copper, a sort of bloody amber. He held up his hands, showing that she had the power due to their positions. She lowered the crossbow and he backed away as she sat up. "I fell asleep?" She asked, putting the weapon away and reaching to pet Valor in an attempt to re-ground herself.

"Obviously." He answered, crossing his arms. He hadn't liked the eye contact, not in the slightest.

"Thanks for waking me up." She said, stretching and starting to pack up her things. "I'll see you tonight, I suppose."

They both returned to their camps, Talon to go to sleep and Quinn to edit a sketch in her journal.

December hit and as the cold increased, the chill between the two (three) beings from rival factions eased a little. While they were by no means friends, they had developed a bit of amity and had moved from only talking strategy to talking a bit about their individual city-states and even small, very small, aspects of their lives. One night, Quinn talked about Demacian architecture and Talon responded with the underground preference of the Noxians. Another night, Talon explained what made the best type of blade and Quinn countered with what she preferred her bolts to be like. Valor had input in that one, where Quinn translated about the few times they had attempted to fit his claws with metal pieces to make his attacks more deadly. He much preferred his own natural weapons, but he allowed that in some cases, metal was nice.

On the night of the fourth, Katarina appeared in their camp in a state of distress, obvious even to Quinn. Talon stood, unused to seeing his older sister figure so openly upset. "Talon, follow." She commanded, pacing away from the circle of firelight. Quinn watched the two leave with curiosity and the faintest edge of concern in her face. The concern wasn't solely for the future of their two factions, but also for the two assassins, one a little more than the other.

"Dad's missing." Katarina announced, after several long silent moments of walking. Her movements were tense, jerky. "Cas says he went to the Ivory Ward and didn't come back a couple days ago."  
"A couple days? She's just alerting you now?" Talon shot back, feeling, for the first time in his life, intense fear for someone else's safety. The general, the Du Couteaus, had come to mean a lot to him. They were family... and weakness, though one he was oddly willing to have.

"She wanted to be sure." Kat said, sighing. "She didn't want it to be a false alarm where he just wandered off for a few days, researching whatever it is he's caught on. She's just as upset about it; do not, and I repeat  _do not,_ give her a hard time about it. She's already close to hysterical."

Talon scoffed softly, but he took her words to heart. He felt like he was being chased, adrenaline pumping through him and nothing to use it on.

Kat ran a hand through her hair, brushing it back from her face. "I can't go back for a few days, not until Snowdown, but I'll take you with me when I do. Until then, you  _will_ follow my orders, as you did Dad's. Don't go tearing off, understand?"  
Talon tensed, rankling under the words, but he allowed the tension to dissipate. "As long as it suits my ends." He answered softly, his gaze flicking away from her. He would listen, but only for now.

Katarina accepted that and for a moment, silence stretched as she hesitated to impart a last bit of information. Talon noticed and, frowning, pointed it out. "What are you holding back?"  
"Cas... a few of her contacts still talk to her and she's been keeping her eyes on the High Command... They're already pushing Darkwill to replace Dad. Pushing hard, Talon. They're acting like he's dead." Her voice changed from the commanding tone she managed so well to something unsure, confused. Those feelings increased when her fellow assassin didn't answer. She took another breath and added, "One of the generals, Jericho Swain, sounds like he'll be the pick. If it were replacing anyone else, I'd call it a good choice. But replacing Dad... it's all so damn  _suspicious_. Why do they think he's dead? It's only been a couple of days, not weeks, a month, any  _real_  amount of time."

"You suspect foul play?" He said, his voice falling into bored tones. "In Noxus, that is not unusual, but the General was an impressive fighter and an excellent tactician. I doubt he was overpowered..."  
"Without a great deal of organization determined to bring him down." Katarina cut him off, though what she said made sense to him. He nodded and silence fell again. After a moment, he reached for her shoulder. The touch was odd for him, though she received it as comforting. She seemed to draw strength from it and with a deep inhale, she straightened her spine. "Go back to your guarding duties. I'll see you in the morning.. and we'll head back in about five days or so." She pulled away, but turned to pat his shoulder. "We're Du Couteaus. We'll get through this. I'll keep you updated." She left.

Quinn noted his agitation when he returned, though wisely didn't bluntly ask what was wrong. Instead, she offered him a bun from a little bag beside her. He was immediately cautious, and Quinn rolled her eyes. "Poison isn't my style." She said, tearing a piece off of the bread and popping it into her mouth. She held out the poison-tested pastry and he took it, his love of food overtaking his other misgivings.

"What is this?" He asked, examining it.

"That one is probably full of chocolate." She answered, pulling another one out for Valor to eat, though this one was most assuredly not full of chocolate. "A friend back home sent me a care package. We write back and forth and when she found out I was guarding night shifts, she made the correct assumption that I had been eating less because schedule change. So she sent me a few boxes of these in containers that have spells to prevent them from going bad. There are all types."

Talon took a bite out of it and was pleased at the taste. He realized he had also been eating less because of the night shift and knew that if Cassi ever found out, she would be furious. He made a mental note to try bringing food, though after his spoiling through Cassi's cooking, the food provided by the military was sorely lacking.

When he finished that one, Quinn tossed him another. "Geez, don't they feed you in Noxus?.. This one isn't dessert-y." He caught it and tried it, finding it to contain some sort of meat-and-spice mixture. By the time he glanced up again, Valor was sitting right in front of him, peering deep into his face.

Quinn chuckled. "That one is Valor's favorite type." She said, eating a fruit filled one herself, which Valor had little interest in. He chirped in response, shifting a little and still staring hard at the Noxian.

Talon met the bird's eyes evenly for a long moment, then ripped a piece off and held it out. Valor delicately took it from his palm and, pleased with his tribute, returned to Quinn's side. He swallowed it down and clearly looked pleased. Talon wondered idly if he'd won favor with the eagle.

Quinn went back to drawing, leaving Talon to his increasingly dark thoughts. He wanted to head back to Noxus now, find Cassi and get the information, find the General as soon as possible, but these were the last orders he had received from Du Couteau. Slacking on them just wasn't his style.

Oddly enough, while she occasionally made a comment to Valor or to Talon, Quinn didn't press for conversation for the rest of the night. She seemed to gather his mood, which he found concerning, and allowed him to deal with it as he would.

They parted ways at dawn and Talon slept fitfully. When he got back to the small camp, Quinn was already there and she looked uncomfortably serious. It took an hour for her to speak up about it. "So Du Couteau's getting replaced? Did he step down?" She left the other question she had unasked.

Talon scowled in response, displeased with how much knowledge she had. But then again, she was a scout and she was clever. The Demacians probably had spies in Noxus anyway. "He's... missing." He answered, surprised at himself for responding so honestly.

Quinn frowned, a list of questions filling her head, none of which she could reasonably ask. Valor chirped and she nodded in response to whatever he said. Valor picked up a small bag beside where she sat and moved over, dropping it in front of Talon. His gaze was again penetrating, but less so this time. The brunette picked up the bag and looked inside it, finding more buns. After a long moment, he sighed. "Thanks." He directed it at Valor, who preened a little before moving back around the fire to beside Quinn.

The night passed somewhat normally, except it was quieter than usual. They made their rounds as usual and Quinn didn't pry. Closer to dawn, Valor started chirping and squawking occasionally, pointedly prodding at Quinn. The scout only offered him frowns and shushes, though there was a definite awkwardness to her responses, and Talon caught a few odd glances in his direction. As dawn got closer, he heard Quinn mutter "fine" and she passed a medium sized parcel over to Valor, who took it over to Talon.

Talon stared down at the box, then lifted his eyes back to the bird and the woman, who had disturbingly similar looks on their faces. Quinn sighed, reading question on his face. "Valor wanted to get you something for Snowdown and considering the situation with General Du Couteau, he worried that you would be called away before the actual day. So here it is. Happy Snowdown."

The Noxian went from confused to incredibly uncomfortable. A gift, from a Demacian? Then again, they all seemed like sentimental fools. He was cautious as he opened the box, fearing a explosive, a poisonous gas, anything, but none came. Wrapped in teal Demacian velvet, there was a long, smooth dagger of Demacian steel. The hilt was the usual Demacian gold, with blue accents, and due to the obvious value of the thing, he assumed it was useless. He picked it up and found himself wrong. He tested the weight, the sharpness, the strength, and found it to be a beautifully wellmade weapon.

"There's some blade oil in the box, a cleaning cloth, and a basic sheath." She said, watching the lower half of his face, because that was what she could see, for reaction. She was getting nothing.

"I can't accept this." He said, assuming this would put him in her debt somehow. He set the blade back in the box.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "It's a gift. No strings attached, Valor picked it out, and you don't want to get on his bad side. We're not taking it back, besides." She stood up, stretching. "Blades aren't our thing, anyway. A simple thank you would suffice."

He hesitated, then sighed. "Thanks." This time, it was directed at both of them. He was still in a little bit of shock at the actions of the duo, but he was good at hiding it.

"You're welcome." She said chipperly, and gestured at Valor. "Time to make rounds. Come on."

Talon followed after them and idly listened to the two talk. Quinn was pleased that the land didn't seem irreparable, which meant a little work could undo the damage the Zaunites did.

It was toward the end of the circle that Valor suddenly went very quiet, and Quinn did the same. Talon glanced up just as they faded into the shadows. It was almost as flawless as he did in the city and until he saw the shadow of Valor circling above, he was confused as to where they went. As Valor issued a short cry, he felt a hand on his shoulder and spun to strike out with a blade. Quinn blocked with the thick leather glove she used as a landing place for Valor, taking a step back from him. "Sorry, we heard something. It's Katarina looking for you, I'm sure, but we didn't know that at first." She shook the hand he'd struck, a small grin on her face. "Good reflexes, Noxian. Decent strength behind it."

Valor landed just as Katarina emerged from the woods. "There you two are. Talon, I need you to start packing. There's a party we have to be at tomorrow night. It's almost dawn anyway." There was a darkness to her tone, something angry. Quinn's gaze was as sharp as Valor's, and what they gathered stayed silent.

Talon nodded and Katarina crossed her arms, focusing on the little group as a whole. "The guard position is likely going to be dissolved, replaced by a singular guard from Kalamanda itself. Considering the mayor is allowing everyone to mine a bit, it is a slightly less tense situation as a whole. I'm giving you a head's up... Quinn, is it?" At a nod from the scout, she continued. "Garen will tell you the same, I'm sure, but he's probably sleeping like a good little soldier." She stretched a little, the movements graceful and somehow a little naturally sultry.

Quinn glanced between them, then at Valor, who chirped shortly. She shrugged. "I'll stay until dawn, but I believe you." She said, offering a small smile. She still didn't know what to make of Katarina Du Couteau, but Valor hadn't raised opposition to her and Garen spoke highly of her.

Talon went back to gather his things, walking abreast with Katarina while Quinn and Valor walked ahead of them, conversing lowly. Katarina noticed the new box with Talon's things, but waited until they were back at the camp, pausing in front of her tent, before she said anything. "So what's in the box?" She asked, shifting from foot to foot.

Despite the fact he was carrying it, he'd forgotten about the new trinket. "A knife." He mumbled in response, though a bit of his confusion came across.

"From Quinn?" She asked, a tiny smile crossing her face that was somewhere between mocking, embarrassed, and amused.

"Yeah." He answered, sighing. "For Snowdown."

"I don't know what it is with these Demacians." She said, gesturing for him to follow her. There was a much larger box propped open on her table, full of a whole host of little blades, all of Demacian steel. "Garen gave me this for Snowdown, though he said it was from "collegue to collegue." They're sentimental fools, all of them." She chuckled a little darkly. "But the bastards don't hold back on presents. Can I see yours?"

Talon passed the box over to her and Katarina checked the blade within over. "It's a good weapon." She said, passing it back. "Well-made, and definitely in the style you prefer. She's observant."  
"She said Valor picked it out."

Confusion crossed her face. "The bird?" She said, frowning. "I don't think..."

"I know you don't believe the bird is intelligent, but you haven't been around it every night for weeks. He definitely communicates, though Quinn understands much more than I do."

"You understand it?" The confusion became amusement. "I always thought you had bird characteristics. Is Valor your new best friend?"  
"Oh, shut up." He retorted, shoving the girl a little. He was laughing though, and so was she.

"Whatever. Get back to your tent. We're leaving as soon as possible." She pushed him back, towards the tent opening.

Talon lost the chuckling as soon as he was outside, remembering why they were heading home.  _The general is missing_. It was a cold ice bath, that knowledge. His determination strengthened. He would find him, but until then, he had to take care of business, and of his sisters.


	6. Crimson Elite Rising

**((New chapter! Politics are getting a bit more complicated, and life is getting tense for House Du Couteau. I'm already at work on the next chapter, but if you guys could review, that would make me so happy! Even if it's just a smiley face saying that you were here. Something more substantial would be amazing, but something little is enough. Enjoy!))**

Cassiopeia was more than ecstatic to welcome them home. The travel via mage-portal had been trying on both of them, but she had a full meal prepared. There was a fragileness to her, though, and her usually perfect makeup was a bit faded, a bit smeared, as if she'd been crying. Talon's jaw tightened when he saw that, the intense desire to fight something pulsing through his blood. But there was nothing to fight, nothing to do, except hug her back when she wrapped him in a tight embrace.

 

“You guys need to eat. We can handle...” She paused, her voice cracking a little. “Everything else, later. Come on, I set the table. Make sure to look at the placemats!”

 

Katarina and Talon allowed themselves to be herded into the dining room and they sat down at the spots they usually did when the family actually had dinner in a group. Katarina moved her plate off of the placemat and smiled at the lovely geraniums rising up in a tangle around her name in powerful, elegant font. It was a beautiful creation, and it was obvious it had taken a lot of time.

 

Talon moved his plate and his placemat had a flock of beautiful birds flying up on one side and on the other, a raining down of blades. In the center, _Talon Du Couteau_ sprawled in sharp, thick script. His breath caught in his throat at the words, because the intense sense of _belonging_ was still foreign to him. The Du Couteaus had accepted him so completely, so fully, that even when he tried to distance himself, they pulled him back into the family. Things like this brought on emotions he wasn't equipped to deal with, in full force. He was a Du Couteau. He had a family.

 

Cassiopeia came out with two casserole dishes and set them down on the table. “You guys like them?” She asked, her smile a little brighter.

“It's beautiful, Cas.” Katarina answered, smiling at her sister. She stood up to hug the girl again. “You always were a good little artist.” She kissed her sister's cheek.

“Thanks, Cassi.” Talon said, reeling back the influx of feeling. He didn't stand to hug her, but his tone was enough.

Cassiopeia beamed, then her gaze fell on the head of the table. “I finished Father's too... But he'll see it when he comes home.” Her yellow eyes filled with tears and her hand went to her mouth. She swallowed hard, gesturing Katarina away. “I'm being silly... He'll be home. I don't need to be crying over nothing. Let me go get the rolls.” She turned to the kitchen and Katarina's face fell as she turned, showing a bit of the concern she actually felt. She hadn't worried this much about Cassiopeia since she'd had to go get her from the desert over a year ago, and then she'd been a crying mess too.

Talon's thoughts followed a similar path. He'd accompanied Katarina on that specific mission, and it hadn't been pleasant. But they were both blank-faced when she came back, setting down juice and rolls.

 

“Eat up, you guys. I made your favorites.” She said, sitting down beside Katarina. She'd cooked a great deal of food. One of the dishes was a steak and pasta dish with a savory white sauce, for the redhead, and the other was a seafood medley with vegetables for Talon. He reached for the rolls first, a normal occurrence considering his love of bread.

 

They didn't talk much while they ate, which wasn't too odd, and the silence wasn't tense. Afterwards, they all cleaned up together, but the silence was getting progressively more tense. Finally, when Cassiopeia ran out of things to do with her hands, she sighed. “He left a box for us. It's up in his study. I... didn't open it. I couldn't bring myself to.”

 

Katarina nodded and they all went to the staircase. At the base, Talon quietly picked up Cassiopeia, knowing she wouldn't want to climb the stairs, and she gave him a grateful look. The feel of scales on his hand didn't bother him anymore. He didn't think “monster,” he just thought “Cassi.”

He let her down at the top of the stairs and they continued as a group to the general's study. Katarina opened the door before the other two could hesitate, and the room looked untouched, but in plain sight, there was a large box with a piece of paper on it. The paper held the words “Heirs of Du Couteau” in the general's large blocky handwriting. Katarina, ever the leader, moved over to open the box, sending the paper fluttering to the ground. There were three different chests inside, each with a name on them. Katarina pulled out Cassio's and passed it to her, then passed Talon his before taking up her own.

 

Talon didn't like the feel of this chest, but he opened it anyway. On top was an old, grand pocketwatch, made of dusky silver. He opened it and found that the hands weren't moving, there wasn't any ticking coming from it, and the glass face was cracked. He deduced that it was broken. The next item made his heart stop. A blade, long and sharp, old, barely fit in the box. He lifted it up and eyed the dimmed surface, seeing his own face staring back at him.

 

_Every challenger that the High Command had sent his way ended up in the gutter and so was the fate of this stalker in the night. Talon turned to face him, though he only knew the gender because of the build of the person. He'd been following Talon for about ten minutes now, enough that it was obvious he was being tracked._

“ _Another body for the gutter.” He taunted, drawing his blades, bracing himself to fight. He was met with silence, and he waited until the stranger moved to do anything. He was behind the man in an instant, but the stalker spun to face him, blocking the blade with one of his own. He was deadly fast, his blades precise._

_Talon smirked. Finally, a challenge. He went for a low shot and was blocked again, receiving an injury to his upper arm for his efforts. He hissed softly and attacked again, this one faster, and found himself blocked again._

_The two entered a deadly dance, leaving marks on each other, but nothing fatal, nothing so permanent as that. It was with shock that Talon found himself disarmed, a blade at his throat. He could see his reflection in the blade's surface and he was both awed and terrified. Finally someone who could beat him... but that probably meant death. He wasn't sure he was ready for that._

_The cloaked figure drew back his hood and Talon recognized him. He'd seen his face before: General Du Couteau, one of the High Command's greatest warriors. He hadn't believed how good a blademaster the man was. Not until now._

“ _You're a remarkable bladesman.” The general commented, his eyes fascinated, and glinting with opportunity. “All self-taught, if the tales are true. You've been quite a thorn in the side of the High Command, but you've earned your place there in every body you left behind. I haven't had such a fight in a long time... And you're young yet.”_

_Talon, barely sixteen, wasn't sure what to make of the man's ramblings, while he had a knife at his throat, but he wasn't in any position to argue._

“ _You're incredibly talented. What's your name, boy?”_

“ _Talon.” He answered quickly, though careful not to cut himself on the blade pressed so close to his flesh._

“ _It would be a waste to lose all that talent, Talon. I was sent to kill you, but I have a proposition to make.” He seemed amused at the confusion on the boy's face._

“ _Make it, then.”_

“ _You can come work for me. You could live in my home, of course, because that would come with the job. If you swear to only use your talent for what I command, then you can live.”_

_Talon hesitated. Death, or working for the only man who had ever brought him to loss? Life and learning from the only person who had ever bested him?_

“ _Consider me sworn, then.”_

“ _Excellent.” Du Couteau removed the blade and sheathed it, then reached to help Talon up. “Now I have two lovely daughters at my house. You'll obviously help protect them, though they don't really need it. Father's worry, you know. Now, if you lay a hand on either of them....”_

 

Talon recognized this as the blade that defeated him, that brought him to heel. He held the Noxian iron reverently, and in shock. Finally, it ended up at his side, opposite the blade that Quinn had given him. The watch ended up in a pocket. At the bottom of the chest was a file, and on the file, was a note that said, “Go to the league.” He closed the chest, intending to go over the file away from the girls.

 

Katarina was standing with a necklace made of bloodstone in her hand, shock on her features. Talon recognized the necklace as one the general was never without. It was the token of the head of house, what the head of the Du Couteau family wore to indicate their power and position. “I... I guess I'm head of the family now.” She said, voice empty of everything but a slight waver.

 

“He gave me Mother's ring.” Cassiopeia said softly. She already was wearing it, the emerald glinting beautifully in the light. All three sat in intense silence for a moment, filled with the grief and distress they felt. Talon held back his emotions because that was who he was. He fought to be stone. Katarina could not break down because she was now the head of the house, the one in power, their leader. But Cassiopeia had no such restrictions and she felt the despair of the others, felt her own, and she started crying. Not just releasing her own emotions, but crying for all of them, because the other two could not, would not. So she cried for all of them and gathered the other two to her. The two assassins let her cling and they clung too, feeling the sorrow as a family.

 

\---

 

Talon went over the files in his room later, and found them to be about the Black Rose, the organization that Marcus has been researching before. There was a small paper on Jericho Swain and his interactions with the organization, and it's mysterious leader, Emilia LeBlanc. The information on her was scattered at best, but he was obviously concerned about a turn-over of power, a complete overhaul of the current High Command. The assassin was getting the sneaking suspicion that the general had been right, and that he had been silenced for his research. With a tension in his shoulders, he decided he would continue the general's research, because it should lead to him, or at least, where he ended up.

 

There was a knock at his door and Katarina peeked in. “All right, come on. We have to go to the party at the High Command... As head of house Du Couteau, they can't turn me away, and you'll be my “bodyguard.”” She was dressed in her usual leathers, but she'd attempted make up and the heirloom bloodstone dangled from her neck.

 

Talon stood and nodded, setting the papers aside. “Cassi?”

“Asleep. She agreed to stay because she's not ready to face the world yet.” Kat sighed. “But it will have to happen soon. With Dad gone, we'll all have to get a bit more public.” With a curse, she threw up her hands. “But I don't know anything about being in the public eye this formally, with this much responsibility. Dad always handled all that, and he didn't give me much instruction... I don't like dancing in circles because of politics.” She made a frustrated noise, then seemed to pull herself together. “But I have to now. I'm going to go grab a couple extra blades. Remember to arm yourself well.”

 

He rolled his eyes after her, but checked over his body arsenal. The weight of the blade Quinn had given him was noticeable at his right hip, and he spared a passing thought for the Demacian girl, idly wondering what her dismissal from the position had led her to. He shook the thoughts away, and reached for the blade from General Du Couteau, the one on his left hip, and hefted it in his hands. This weight, Noxian iron, was more familiar, more comfortable, but definitely older. He needed to sharpen it later, but it was sharp enough now. He re-sheathed it and made his way out of the room, towards the front hall. Katarina met him there and with a deep breath, she nodded. “Let's go.”

 

Due to the family's rank, they weren't underground, so they traveled by starlight in the shadows of the rough Noxian buildings. The party was at an old house in the Ivory Ward, House Darkbourne, usually separated and mysterious. Neither of the two had ever been there, and they went to the back door, because that seemed logical. The man at the door had violet eyes and he seemed frail, but his hands crackled with power. “Names?”

“Katarina Du Couteau. This is my body guard.” The redhead answered, voice haughty, confident.

“Ah, Du Couteau. I'm sorry for your loss.” He said, his mouth stretching in a grin. Katarina bristled imperceptibly to all but Talon.

Visibly, she shrugged. “Such is life, isn't it? I'm sure death comes for us all. Even you.” A small acidic smirk touched her lips. “Perhaps sooner than you think. May we pass?”

The smile vanished from his face and he stepped aside, eyes sharp. “Go on in, Du Couteau. I hope you enjoy witnessing your father's successor.”

 

Katarina brushed past him dismissively and Talon followed after her, his hands twitching towards his weapons. He knew he couldn't kill the man. But he could think so very hard about it.

As they got into the ballroom, there was a hush falling over the gathered crowd. They weren't on time by any means. In front of the crowd was Boram Darkwill, High Command leader. By his right had was Jericho Swain, a man of average height wearing a helmet, though his piercing eyes were clearly visible. A crow perched on his shoulder, a creature who seemed to have a few too many eyes and an uncomfortable intelligence to its eyes.

 

Talon found himself comparing the dark little crow to the large magnificent eagle that he'd spent so much time around. While this bird seemed to hunger for power, eyes casting about for weakness, Valor had been an emblem of his namesake: brave, valiant, ready to fight, and with a snarky sense of humor. He didn't think this bird would ever fight him outright. No, it would try to sneak into his soul first.

Katarina hissed softly as the great form of Darius, the Hand of Noxus, stepped up beside Darkwill on his other side. “He gave his alliance over to Swain early – he could have split the vote, but he didn't.” She explained in hushed tones, green eyes raking over the figures of the men in front of the gathered group. Those here were Noxus' most powerful, the most bloody, and the warriors of them were allowed to call themselves the Crimson Elite.

 

“As you all know,” started Darkwill, his voice carrying easily over the silent crowd. “We have lost one of our greatest Generals, Marcus Du Couteau. He is survived by his two daughters, Katarina and Cassiopeia. While he will be sorely missed, we must move forward as Noxus needs. His strength was great, but Noxus needs new strength, and with that, I would like to welcome Jericho Swain into the fold. A grand tactician, a warrior of the mind, a mage of much renown, he has earned the name Crimson Elite.”

 

Talon scoffed softly, and Katarina wanted to speak up. “Why are they so sure he's dead? Why has everyone given up so quickly?” She whispered, tossing her hair back nervously. While she knew she was a talented assassin herself, she realized that she was surrounded by fighters that might mean her and Talon harm. If they had “removed” her father...

 

By now, Swain was discussing, in a cold deadpan voice, his plans for his new position, his ideas to gain control of Kalamanda, all of it, to create a chokehold at the pass. He seemed dismissive of the Institute of War and its decrees. That was going to rain pain down on all of their heads, but Talon was getting the uneasy feeling that perhaps Swain wanted the Institute's attention. Perhaps he wanted Noxus to cast off the shackles. If he hadn't just taken the former position of the general and he didn't have that soulless and hungry bird on his shoulder, Talon might have agreed with him.

 

Katarina reached for Talon's shoulder and they faded further into the background, sharp eyes combing the crowd and the speakers. As the speech ended and the festivities began, they both focused on the woman Swain went to as he left the stage.

“Is that... LeBlanc?” Kat muttered, frowning hard. “Everyone thought she was dead or at least long gone. I've only seen paintings... but she looks so young.”  
“LeBlanc?” Talon asked quietly, focusing on his sister.

“Yeah... back when I was learning history, our tutor mentioned an organization, a long time ago, that was run by LeBlanc. But then again, age means nothing when you have Darkwill harnessing dark magic to live forever.” She sighed. “I worry about the connection between her and Swain, but there's nothing to-”

 

“Katarina~.” The voice that floated to them made them both cringe. Draven, the glorious executioner, swaggered his way up to them with a dark glint in his eyes. “Draven didn't think you would be out and about, with your father dead and all. But maybe you're looking for a little comfort, Du Couteau?”  
“Get lost, Draven.” Katarina answered, just distracted enough that she wasn't bristling – yet – over the man's words.

“Draven can give you all the comfort and distraction you need.” He said, ignoring her words as he prowled closer. “You aren't worthy, but Draven isn't unkind. He makes allowances.”

Katarina was pretty sure she was close to throwing up, but Talon beat her to the response. He was behind Draven before anyone could blink, a blade at his neck, pressing almost hard enough to draw blood. “Keep talking...” Talon challenged, voice empty, but Katarina picked up on the anger. “And you'll find that words will be very hard to make.”  
Draven tensed, but that cocky smile never left his face. “Why? Is she yours? What would Marcus think of this...”  
“How dare you.” Katarina snapped, slapping him hard enough to bruise. “Never use his first name. You haven't earned it.”

Draven was obviously starting to bristle at the two, and his hand started moving towards his axes. Talon noticed the attention they were beginning to gather and he released the man. “Katarina, home.” He said quietly, reaching for her arm. He led her out into the cool night air, hoping that it would cool her anger.

 

Katarina made something akin to a short frustrated scream, but that seemed to expel a lot of her anger. “Those in power around here sorely do not deserve it.” She said, voice quieter, and she sighed. “But we won't find any info on Dad here. They're all moving on too fast.” She was put together now as she discussed this, but he saw a brief flash of pain in her eyes. It cut him to the core, and steeled his resolve to take care of the family, and find the general.

 

“Let's get home.” She said, glancing back towards the building they'd left. “Cas and I will start sifting through our sources tomorrow, see if we can put anything together.” Talon hesitated, wanting to go back and find out what he could about Leblanc, the Black Rose, Swain, but he was loathe to abandoning the two girls for very long, considering the recent events. With a sigh, he nodded, and they headed home.

 

Something made him uncomfortable about the house when they got home and he went to the kitchen to look for Cassi. Kat noted his searching look and felt a similar discomfort crawl into the pit of her stomach. “She's probably in bed.” She reassured, turning to head down the hall to her younger sister's room. “It is late...” her voice trailed off at the “after all” when Cas's room proved empty. “Maybe Dad's?” She suggested, turning to find Talon at the end of the hall, his usually empty features showing a bit of nervousness.

 

They combed the house and their search was fruitless. Cassiopeia Du Couteau, “ill shut-in” of Noxus, was missing.  


	7. A Very Noxian Snowdown

((Hiya, guys. Sorry about waiting five billions years to update, but this past semester was less than thrilling. I'll be taking full advantage of the summer to write, and hopefully update this an awful lot. As always, review! It warms my heart!))

The two combed the city in panic, but as night fell the next day, Cassiopeia was still missing. Katarina was visibly frantic, her usual calm and cocky visage wracked with fear. Talon was maintaining his exterior calm well, but internally he wasn't sure he had ever been so distressed. Cassi had never just gotten up and left. She had never done anything without at least warning them (though she rarely asked for permission except from the general himself).

There were no signs of intrusion, magical or otherwise, that they could tell. Katarina finally got the heart to go through Cassiopeia's things and she noted that there seemed to be a few items missing, but not enough to assure that she had left of her own accord. Time passed and neither of them slept. When Talon's self-preservation drove him to the kitchen pantry, he found a note on top of the pile of pastries stored in there. It said, “I've gone to the Institute. I'll be back before Snowdown. Don't worry!”

“Kat!” He called, voice a little gruff with relief. She popped her head into the kitchen and, when her eyes caught sight of the note, she was beside him in a flash.  
“The Institute?” She asked, frowning. “Why would she have gone there?”

Talon had the sinking suspicion that Cassiopeia had seen the files in his room. It wasn't unlike the girl to insist on “tidying up” even though both Kat and Talon had protested that they didn't need it. She wouldn't have pried, though, unless she felt it was absolutely necessary. And if she'd seen him with the files in his hand after they opened the chests, files he didn't share the contents of, well... It wouldn't be far-fetched for Cassiopeia to think that made it absolutely necessary. She probably saw the note on top, “Go to the league,” and took it to heart.

“What are we going to do?” Katarina said, her voice hushed and a little irritated. Now that she knew her sister's whereabouts, she had the freedom to be angry at her. “She has two days headstart on us – and if she's headed to the institute, then she probably took mage-portal. Snowdown is tomorrow, though... she wouldn't miss it. We can just... wait I guess. I'm going to kill her when she gets home.” She hesitated, taking the note from him. “But what is she going to do in the League? They'll see her as a-a monster, but she doesn't have much by way of fighting, except maybe her poisonous bite. And the scream. Maybe that will be enough. I'm sure she'll tell us when she gets home.”

Talon accepted her decision, though he knew he would be on edge until Cassi came home. He knew he would need to approach the league soon himself to follow the general's orders, but he still needed to decide how he was going to find out more about the Black Rose. He didn't think the Institute would give him as much information as he wanted, as quickly as he wanted to find it. He would have to do research, digging, and he knew how to do that the old fashioned way.

He returned to the general's study, intending to comb through the other information the general had been gathering. The man had been working for weeks, months, on this one project, and the little folder Talon had received could in no way be the entirety of that. It was still disconcerting to see the room empty and the abandoned feeling only made it worse, but the assassin dismissed it all to start rifling through the desk.

All the carefully conducted and organized research was missing. He'd hoped for member profiles, building suggestions, infiltration plans, but he found nothing. He sat in the chair, filled with irritation, and as he moved to get up, his hand brushed something under the arm of the chair. He reached to feel around the object and it pulled free in his hand. He felt a bit of success and a bit of confusion when he discovered he'd found a small, old key. He examined it, but it was old enough that he couldn't think of a thing in the house that it was likely to fit.

Even so, he spent the next couple hours trying various locks around the house and as suspected, none of them fit the key. He ended up in his room around midnight, more than exhausted and just a little confused. He put the key with the folder and finally settled down to bed.

The morning found the two older Du Couteau children awake, riled with agitation at Cassiopeia's absence. Katarina could be heard in the bladework room, taking out her frustrations on practice dummies, and Talon paced the kitchen. He felt he should do something, but there was very little he was good at beside killing and espionage.

He wasn't completely aware of how drastic Cassiopeia's absence affected him, but within an hour after sunrise, he was attempting to cook in the kitchen. He'd watched Cassi often enough that he was positive he could make something decent to eat, even though he knew full well that he hadn't taken any notes or really paid that much attention.

 

Cassi came home to the scent of vague burning and a certain assassin cursing quietly in her kitchen. He spun as she opened the door and they both froze at the sight of each other. He looked decidedly relieved for almost a full ten seconds, and she wondered how much trouble she was in.

“I should have known not to trust either of you to cook for today.” She said, offering a partial smile. Her redheaded sister appeared in the hallway and the snake woman was almost knocked to the ground by an abrupt embrace.

\---

“How could you leave without talking to us first?” Katarina demanded. Cass had removed her fluffy coat, scattering snow that quickly turned to water in the warm interior of the manor.  
“I thought it was about time that I joined the league,” answered Cass with calmness and poise. She glanced over what Talon had haphazardly (in her eyes, because he had actually thought rather hard about all of it) thrown together. It seemed to be some sort of vegetable cream casserole. She decided immediately that she and Katarina would both eat a bit of it, because that's what one did when their brother tried to cook. The snake started working on baking bread and working on a meat of some sort.

Katarina hesitated, casting her nervous eyes to Talon. The man wisely did not meet her eyes, not wanting to be dragged into an argument so soon after his little sister returned home. The Sinister Blade sighed. “I'm just worried, Cass.” She said quietly. “It was your first time out since... since Shurima, and I guess I had hoped we would all have more preparation. Or at least warning. We spent a couple days looking for you.”

Cass glanced up in surprise. “I left a note where I thought you would find it the fastest...” Her eyes also traveled to Talon and she was met with the same avoidance. She understood then that both of them had forgotten food in their attempts to locate her, and that warmed her heart. She turned a bright smile to Katarina. “I'm fine, Kat. The League is the best place for monsters and,” she held up a hand to stop Katarina's immediate protest, “the general public will view me as a monster. There is nothing I can do to stop that. I can, however, embrace their perception and turn my tragedy into a strength for Noxus and our family. We have the greatest bladesmasters and now our family boasts another powerful mage, like Mother once was.” She showed them both the ring on her hand, the one that had come in her box. “This gives me more control over my poison that I've ever dreamed. I will demonstrate for you soon on the Fields of Justice, I'm sure.”

Katarina's face fell a little. She didn't want to face her sister and if she was a mage, then they would meet head on in the mid lane of matches. As a new champion, Summoners would be calling for Cass often and some would definitely want to see the sisters head-to-head. “Are you okay, at least? What title did they give you?” 

Cass smiled. “The Serpent's Embrace.”

\- - -

Cass fixed the food Talon had made, and then finished what she started. She sent the other two off to get their presents and they could all open them after they ate. The two were happy enough to have her back that they did as she asked with no opposition.

Talon's dish was made edible and they all conversed as normally at the table. At the end, gifts were exchanged. Katarina got Cass a silver mirror-brush-comb set, obviously old and valuable. The note was oddly heartfelt for the assassin, saying, “See yourself as we see you, not as the world does.” She got Talon a new sharpening stone and blade oil, high quality stuff, with a passing remark that his “marks in the practice dummies hadn't been as clean-cut recently.”

Talon had gotten Cassi a small jar with a lovely scented lotion inside. The seller had commented that it could soften any skin and he'd been around the girl enough to know she bemoaned the coarseness of her skin now. He passed new small sheaths to Katarina, knowing a few of hers for her smaller blades were fast getting worn.

Cass had gotten Katarina new clothes and belts, all tailored to have many attachment points and secret compartments for blades. For Talon, she'd put together an on-the-road recipe book so he wouldn't starve if he had to be away from them for a long period of time. After his time in Kalamanda and the bit of weight loss she noticed, she gave him a stern talking to about the importance of food.

At the end, Cassi seemed pleased. “It was a good Snowdown, I think. We didn't even have to deal with presents from strangers.” She said, smiling. When the two assassins shared an uncomfortable glance, she frowned at Katarina. “Did you get another present from a suitor?”  
“Not exactly... that big Demacian brute got me new blades, in the style I prefer.” She said, running a hand through her hair.  
Cass frowned again, this time chidingly. “And you accepted them?”  
“Talon took a present from that Demacian scout.” The redhead said hastily, hoping to pass the attention away from herself and the confusing relationship she had with the Might of Demacia.  
Cassi's eyes went wide and turned to Talon. “You did what?” She asked, a little startled.  
“She wouldn't take it back,” he started, trying to defend himself. Then he sighed. “And it was a nice blade.” He pulled it from his side, offering it to Cassi handle-first.  
She took it, looking into the mirrored surface. “This looks similar to your other blades, and it's weighted well.” She said, passing it back. “She was the one you were on guard duty with?”  
“Her and her talking bird.” He said, shaking his head in almost disgust. “It answered her and I started understanding some of it. One of the strangest things I've ever seen.”  
The snake waved her hands, chuckling a little. “Well, I'm glad you two played nice with our ancient rivals. I'm going to go start cleaning the kitchen. Talon, come help?”

The fact that he followed her was answer enough. Katarina slipped upstairs to her father's study gratefully, feeling like she'd dodged a bullet bigger than the sheriff from Piltover could produce.

“You really should go to the League, like Father told you.” Cassi chided softly, passing him another dish to dry and put away.  
He made a derisive noise. “Going through my things, are we?”  
“You left it out and I went to get your laundry.” She defended haughtily. “And you should listen to it. An assassin of your skill is very suited to the fields of battle.”  
He fell silent, contemplating her words. Ten minutes passed like that and she finally spoke again, “Talon, have you ever thought about... I don't know, dating?”  
He nearly choked on air. “Dating?” He asked, not entirely sure he had any of the skills required to navigate this particular verbal minefield.  
“Yeah, like going out with a girl, a day on the town, getting to know someone?” She hastily added, “Or a boy. It's okay if you're that way too.”  
He laughed faintly, struggling to believe this was really happening. “I don't really have time for things like that, Cassi.”  
“Sure you do. Kat has time to flirt with Garen, despite everything else she has to handle. Are you still nervous after the debacle with the Duchess Stormstone?” She turned her green eyes to him, trying to understand.  
While that _had_ been quite a traumatic event, he didn't think that weighed on him now. “I don't think so, Cassi. It's just that people are a hassle and I don't want to deal with them more than I have to.”  
She fell silent, nodding thoughtfully. As he dried the last dish, he put it away and quickly escaped before she could think of more probing, invasive questions that he really didn't have an answer for.


	8. Demacian Snowflakes

Quinn had missed the Demacian countryside. 

A sharp whistle brought the redhead and her feathered companion tumbling from the high pine they'd occupied. They rode the momentum down the snow-covered mountain, to the sleepy little cottage that produced a steady flow of light gray smoke from an old brown chimney. 

The woman at the door had Quinn's sharp eyes, but in the wrong color. Her face was bright, beaming, and she said in a conspiratory whisper, “Your father made the blackberry crumble this year, but we're going to pretend it's good.”   
Valor's immediate chirp agreed. Quinn grinned but remained silent, only a nod to indicate hers. 

Her mother led them both inside. The interior was warm from the fireplace and the oven, which had been working all day. That morning Quinn had woken up in her childhood bed determined to help but around midday, her father had sent her out to “collect firewood.” With their woodstock full, that meant to just go wander the countryside. Both of her parents knew how connected she was to nature and how much she missed this particular sprawl of land. 

Even after what had happened to her brother, she had never blamed the woodlands here. As a child, she was so sure the trees mourned the loss of her twin's echoing laughter and she found a kinship, a solace, with them. After all, the trees and her brother had led her to Valor. 

As traumatic an event as that had been, her brother's death had not broken her family either. They were made of sterner stuff and instead of turning away, hiding in their own pain, they had turned to each other. They had always been open to each other and Quinn had only developed secrets when she started working for the government. Her parents understood and never pressed. 

The table was set for five. Beside Quinn's chair was a much smaller chair with a wooden sword laid across it. On her other side was a falcon's perch, modified to be big enough for the prideful eagle. The perch was close to the table and Valor had his own bowl and cup set up. Quinn's father, after accepting the young hatchling into the household, had decided he needed his own place at the table so he could stop sitting in Quinn's lap and distracting her from her food. So he built the perch. 

“So how are things in Kalamanda?” Quinn's father started, after they had all settled with their food.   
“Tense,” Quinn answered, pausing between bites. “Each citystate is after its own ends – and some of them don't care about the land around the mines. Zaun was destroying the wildlife but I was able to put a stop to that. I worry that it's going to lead to an actual war – everything is so stressed.”   
“What did they have you doing over there? There can't be much left to scout.” Her mother posed the question with interest, hiding any worry she may have had.   
“They had me guarding the mines at night.” Quinn said, and rolled her eyes. “Some of the dullest work I've ever done. They paired Valor and I up with this assassin from Noxus.” She noticed the barely perceptible tensing in her mother's shoulders and she rushed to reassure them. “He belongs to one of the noble families, DuCouteau. He wasn't born to them but the head adopted him – the head that just recently went missing, actually.” For a moment, she looked troubled. That moment was enough for her mother to pick up on it.   
“What was the assassin's name?” Her mother asked, watching her daughter as carefully as she could without being obvious.   
“Talon.” Quinn looked up at the older woman and made a face. “Don't even ask, Mom. I'm not interested in Noxians.”   
Valor made a small sound, not enough to have any tone to it, but her mother sat up straighter. The redhead scowled at the bird. “Valor thinks just because I drew him, I'm interested. I draw a lot of things – that doesn't mean I'm interested in the landscape.”   
Valor protested with a loud squawk at the sassing tone that Quinn had taken, but her mother tapped the table before they could continue to bicker. “Enough, you two. Is there anyone you ARE interested in, Quinn?”   
“No, Mom.” Quinn said, followed by a very put-upon sigh. “I'm not interested in anyone.”   
“You know we would be just as happy if you brought home a girl.” Her father chimed in.   
Quinn rolled her eyes. “I know, Dad. I'm just not interested in anyone.” 

Her mother looked like she wanted to press further, but at that moment the man of the house stood up. “Time for crumble.” He declared and Quinn was saved. 

After dinner, they traded presents. Quinn had brought both of her parents valuables from Kalamanda, a pretty pendant that looked like a wild cat's eye for her father and a new mirror decorated with semiprecious jewels for her mother. The older Demacian woman had knit sweaters for her two scouts, though Valor's wasn't much more than a vest. He still let the woman put it on him, and didn't make a single displeased sound. Quinn hid a grin behind her hand. 

The scouting duo went to bed earlier than they had since they left the house for brighter things. 

~~

A few days of roaming the mountains and forests later, Quinn was about two miles out from the house when a high-circling Valor sounded a warning. At his short-winded behest, Quinn started a quick trek back to the house. They arrived just as a courier in royal colors did. 

The blonde Demacian boy, no more than fifteen and likely a squire from a noble family, looked winded. “You're Quinn,” he panted, “aren't you?”   
“Yes.” She said, her spine straightening out of habit. She looked more stern that way and the youth also straightened himself into a proper pose. He passed her a sealed scroll. “Notice from the king. Summons of some sort.”   
Quinn nodded, her eyes focused on the scroll. She and Valor felt a similar excitement. A mission, most likely, and with all of the building tension around Kalamanda, it was likely to be something of interest. She thanked the Demacian and gave him directions to the nearest village, the nearest inn, and returned inside. She cracked the wax and the two scouts poured over the yellowed paper together. 

“Mom, I have to head back to the city tomorrow.” She called a moment later, causing a dismayed older face to pop out from the kitchen doorway. “Summons from the king, can't ignore it.”   
“No,” her mother grumbled, drying her hands on her pants. “I suppose you can't. Can you tell us anything about it?”   
“Would if I could.” Quinn answered cheerfully, moving into the kitchen and hopping up onto the counter. Her mother let it slide, just this once. “The summons don't even tell me what I'm being summoned for, they just say to hurry back. I hope it's an exciting mission.”   
“You'll be careful?” Her mother cautioned, her eyes careful. Quinn's face sombered a bit.   
“I'll be careful, Mom. You know I'll always come home.” She answered, her confidence reassuring.  
Her mother nodded and took a deep breath. “All right, I'd better get to making you something to take with you back to the capitol.”   
Quinn's smile returned and she hopped back down to start packing back up again. Dawn would see her on the road again, back to the capitol, back to her life.


	9. Never Again - Into The Black Rose

The uselessness of the Institute riled under his collar, giving the assassin a violently restless wanderlust. He had already uncovered any hidden secrets that were readily available within its walls and some that had taken some prodding, but he was finding nothing on DuCouteau, nothing on the Black Rose.

He had managed to keep his thoughts on the Black Rose out of mind during his observation and inquisition at the hands of summoner Kato, the current Head Summoner. The mage had been a bit concerned that so much of Noxus was throwing itself at the League and he wanted to make sure no danger was coming for the delicate peace they had finally brought to the land. Talon’s thoughts had reassured him, but he still had his eye on the young assassin. Often he took the position as the Noxus summoner to keep tabs and that was grating Talon too. He felt like a cat in a cage, pacing to be let out.

“Talon DuCouteau, please report to summoning station five.” The female voice echoed through the hall. He slowly stood, pleased at the surname. Katarina had done that.

_“Talon of Noxus, summoner station eight please.” He sighed and reported to the station, reappearing in front of a short summoner, the organization mage Vakain. The announcer, Ikita, was located in a room off to the side. Vakain was dismissive of the Noxian man until a hand came down on his desk between them. The hand was quickly replaced by the crouching form of Katarina, her green eyes sharp._

_“Why didn’t you give him a last name, Va-kain?” She made his name two sharp syllables, her tone taunting. Talon glanced between the two, feeling, for once, oddly in the shadows._

_The mage’s eyes widened and he straightened, “He is registered to no Noxus clan, he has no lineage to claim. Of Noxus seemed fitting.”_ _  
_ _“Hm.” A thud showed a blade buried in the papers before the small man, Katarina’s hand still extended. “House DuCouteau claimed him years ago. Shouldn’t he claim our namesake?”_

_There was definitely a little sweat on his brow. “A-all right. Talon, assassin to House DuCouteau.”_

_Another blade, this one close to his hand. “He isn’t a guard dog,” she said idly, though the younger Noxian could definitely tell she was amused. “Try again, magic boy.”_

_“Listen, champions are supposed to treat summoning staff with respect and I’m not-” another blade clipped his hand, just the smallest bit of blood coming out._

_“Talon DuCouteau. That’s his name. Understand?”_ _  
_ _“Understood.”_

_“Good boy.” She hopped off of the desk and at a gesture, Talon followed after her._

_“You could get in trouble if he reports you.”_

_She scoffed. “As if he would. Doesn’t matter anyway - he owes you respect.” She stretched lazily. “Anyways, I got called too, so I’m pretty sure that we’re about to face off. Think you can handle that?”_ _  
_ _He had faced Cassiopeia once already, almost immediately, and that had been a painful experience. Bringing his blades against his family was excruciating, enough that Kato had struggled to keep control. It had taken Cassi’s “stop holding your strikes” to get him really moving and after that, it became instinct. He knew she would respawn and he felt the burning of her poison as often as she felt the sting of his blades. It became more a game._

 _“I’ll be fine - it will be no more than the sparring match we’ve always dreamed of anyway.”_ _  
_ _She smirked in response. “We’ll see if you can handle me, Blade’s Shadow - but we all know whose shadow you are.”_

_“Anyone who calls you sinister has clearly never seen you around a puppy.” His mocking tone was playful._

_She reddened just a little, glancing around to check for listeners. She spun then and grabbed him by the collar. “Remember I owe you a blade to the throat.” She hissed, but the threat came off as hollow as the not-really-anger in her eyes. She let him go and waved him off to the summoning platform for red side team. He glanced around at his team, two Demacians, that crying creature from Shurima, and Nocturne, and sighed heavily. It was just a practice match, but working with the justice-oriented people exhausted him - but also reminded him of amber eyes that saw entirely too much. He would just have to perform at maximum capacity and show the Demacian dogs that Noxus was nothing to dismiss._

The summoning platform whisked him away and he met eyes with Vakain once more. The organizer barely glanced up and gestured him to the blue side platform. He took his position on the middle circle.

“Talon,” greeted a deep, upbeat voice. He glanced up and met eyes with Garen, who was appraising him with respect if nothing else. “It’s good to see you away from Kalamanda - we still appreciate your guardianship.”  
“It was nothing.” The shadow said dismissively, annoyed at the large man’s attention.

“It is appreciated nonetheless. It proves that some parts of Noxus could be redeemable.” His eyes were not focused on Talon this time, but across to the red team’s platform. Katarina was across from Talon again, focused on one of her blades and appearing unaware of the Demacian brute’s attentions. Talon knew she was very aware, he could tell in the tension of her form, the way her eyes moved.

Talon felt a hot response in his throat, but this was supposed to be a peaceful place and even though the Vanguard had gone over the line, Talon himself would not be so lackadaisical with his words. He swallowed his rudeness, it burned like bile, and he managed to force himself to say something nice, “Every city-state must have something redeemable.” As the words left him, his mind conjured a sleeping redhead and a blue eagle’s cry. He shook his head, clearing the image. He hated that the scout had been haunting him, thoughts of her coming up often and without warning.

A soft calming tune wrapped around him and his gaze shifted to the botlane duo. Shauna Vayne knelt, digging through her bag and checking her weapon, her eyes unreadable behind her glasses. She seemed almost ethereal, but beside Sona Buvelle, she wasn’t quite so. Where Vayne was a shadow in the night, Sona was a gentle breeze in the sun. She was watching him, her eyes somehow knowing, and she played another calming string. He jerked his eyes away, appalled that he was being read so easily.

He felt almost a clicking in his mind and then a voice came through, purring and clear. “ _Talon DuCouteau, I will be your summoner for today. My name is Cicera… and I’m just so glad Kato stopped hogging you so I could get a turn._ ”

The voice unnerved him because the confidence and almost sultry feminine tone was not something he wanted anywhere near his mind, but at this point he was just going to have to put up with it.

“ _Put up with me?_ ” The pout was easily heard in her tone, but it was short-lived. “ _You’ll find I’m much different than Kato… besides, Noxians know Noxians best._ ”

He managed to keep his next thoughts back. Summoners weren’t supposed to claim origins - it defeated the purpose of the League. This woman had him on edge.

A blue light engulfed them and spat them out on the fountain of Summoner’s Rift. Cicera provided him with a longsword, instead of the Doran’s Blade cautious Kato had always gone for. This made him uneasy as well, but he had trained himself into a mute mental box. The summoner wouldn’t get anything important out of him.

Facing Katarina was an exercise in caution. They were both short-ranged, but the lane quickly turned into a waterfall of thrown blades. It was easy to temporarily lose himself in the fun of pitting himself against the best bladesmistress in all of Valoran. He kept up well and that pleased him.

“ _Talon…_ ” the purr distracted him and he tumbled into a blade instead of away from it. He hissed in pain, retreating a bit. “What?” he snapped, irate.

“ _You’re ignoring me,_ ” she whined. “ _My champions never ignore me… Others fairly fight over me, you know._ ”

“I have no interest in which summoner invades me - as long as they aren’t a fool.” The words were soft, under his breath, as he threw a cone of silver at Kat. She couldn’t blink away in time and she took the full brunt of them. She made a face at him.

“ _I’m no fool… give me your thoughts, Talon. What are you seeking?_ ” The question coincided with a retaliation strike from Kat and as the blade hit him, his mind gave up the words Black Rose. The summoner fell silent. He froze just long enough for Katarina to have time to execute him, but the redhead sensed the distraction and faked a miss on a minion. He could hear her shouting at her summoner.

The most unnerving thing was that the summoner stopped speaking so forwardly. She gave him commands, but they were empty. As they sieged the enemy nexus, finally, she said, “ _Go to the Library in the west wing. The dark corner in section C. Choose the book with the flaming rose and in it, you’ll find what you seek._ ”

The game was won and the connection closed down abruptly, leaving the assassin stumbling on the return platform. Katarina was before him in a instant. “You’re lucky Vayne’s a monster.” She said, steadying him. “But what’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” he said, pulling away. He saw a ghost of hurt cross her face and he changed his tone hastily. “I forgot to eat today.” The words tripped out of his mouth and she rolled her eyes.

“Cass would kill you.”  
“Please don’t tell her.” He requested, the relief making him a little lightheaded. Had he forgotten to eat today? It was a strong possibility. “I’ll go grab something now.”

“You’d better.” She patted his shoulder. “I might catch up, but I have to go yell at Garen.”

She was gone before he could put together a question. He started out of the summoning station and instead of heading towards the food hall, he headed towards the west wing.

The library was sparsely populated at this time of day. The only person he saw was the Lunari Diana. She was a pale glow sitting on the floor in a shadow, her silver eyes giving him half a moment of attention before returning to her book. He was surprised to see her here so quickly - she’d been the jungler in the match he’d just finished. She was a quick thing, though.

He went down a different aisle of books, not trying to test her temper, searching the painted marks on the walls. Section C was far in the back, littered in dust and left dormant a long time. He found the books were mostly on flora, and he found himself in the farthest corner, his hand reaching for a gray book with a brilliant gold and black rose climbing the spine.

He opened the book and quickly caught a falling paper. It wasn’t old, newly printed on faintly silvery paper, and the simple black words gave an address in the Ivory Ward, the area of Noxian elite, and a time. As he read the words, they faded into nothingness. Excitement pulsed within him - finally, a lead.

 

\---

 

Quinn sat atop a battlement, high above Lightshield keep, staring at the scroll in her hands. The paper was the elegant parchment of the king, the words in deep gold ink. Her expression was almost empty, distant, absorbed in the sharp mind housed behind her brilliant amber eyes. The sun’s final rays were trailing along her back, a gentle caress after the vibrance of the day. In the distance, as if pushed back by the sun, storm clouds were approaching.

A shadow chill fell along her spine and then a familiar silhouette settled beside her. She didn’t look up at the blonde woman.

“Are you afraid?” her voice was the softest Quinn had ever heard it, the question probing but gentle.

“No,” she managed, after a long moment, “I’m one of Demacia’s protectors - I would do anything for her, her people.”

“This is unlike anything you’ve ever done…” Luxanna hesitated, her eyes searching the other woman’s face. “We’re sending you into enemy territory, into a position where the organization would have every right to cut you down. We couldn’t save you if…” Her voice trembled very briefly and then strengthened again. “If you want to say no, I’ll fight the king myself.”

“Lux… I can do this.” The fear she could sense in the blonde strengthened her own resolve - she couldn’t show fear. “Valor and I’ve got this. Don’t you worry about me.”

The Crownguard took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. You’re the only one who can do this and that the king himself asked you is a great honor. You leave tomorrow, right?”

“Right. After they give me the gem - it’s supposed to camouflage me, make me look different.” She gestured at the skies. “Valor is going to be polymorphed into a cat and he’s making as much use of his wings now as he can.”

Lux squinted at the blue speck in the distance against the approaching clouds, half-smiling. “He’ll make a good cat.”

Quinn nodded. They sat in companionable silence until the sun was gone, until the clouds were almost overhead, and then Quinn stood up. “I need to walk off this energy. Good night, Lux. I’ll see you… soon. As soon as I can.”

The blonde wrapped her in a hug, the pressure on her ribs increasing incrementally until Lux released her. “Burn away the shadows,” she said solemnly, “The brightest light starts as just a spark.”

Quinn nodded again and with a piercing whistle, she turned and let herself fall off the battlement, into the rushing cold air. A few seconds of falling and then talons dug into her shoulders. The two spiraled down into the courtyard below and Quinn started walking as her feet touched the earth. The fall had cleared her head and her racing heart chased away the anxiety her mission had given her.

_“I want you to infiltrate the Black Rose - it is a secret mage organization within Noxus and we have reason to believe they are planning war.” The king’s eyes lifted from the paper in front of him. “We need you to find out if this is true for us.”_

_“They’ll recognize me, won’t they? There’s a risk of it, at least.” There was no fear in her voice, just logic._

_“We have a disguise planned for you and Valor - there is no need to worry about discovery through appearance. It is more your acting that we need. Members of the Black Rose have historically had nothing but contempt for Demacia. Remember that.”_

_His tone told her she had no choice. Surrounded by paintings of previous kings, two Demacian Vanguard, and countless golden relics, Quinn felt a weight descending on her shoulders. An unfamiliar weight. Her jaw tightened in self-rebellion and she nodded. “When do I leave?”_

_“Tomorrow at dawn. Meet in the library below the Vanguard training yard.” He slid a scroll across the desk towards her and she took it. Information. She needed to get prepared._

_“Thank you, sir.”_

_“On Justice’s Wings.”_

In the darkness, the town was sleeping. There was no curfew, but the inhabitants often acted like it. Demacian society, at least in the cities, was incredibly rigid. But at least it gave her the peace to think, the quiet to gather herself.

Valor’s weight was less a comfort than it usually was and the fading adrenaline left her with the fear again. She hated fear, the instinct dragging up memories she didn’t care to revisit so often.

_His hand was on her collar, she couldn’t run, couldn’t breathe. Caleb’s eyes were wide meeting hers, clear distress in his._

She jerked her shoulders and Valor took surprised flight. She was feeling trapped, contained.

_“Let her go,” Caleb had his wooden sword out, that fire in his eyes that burned in both of them. She could hear the derision in the stranger’s voice, “Put down the toy, kid.”_

She felt her breathing accelerate, energy pulsing through her limbs. Fear was filling her throat.

 _She twisted out of her jacket as Caleb brought the wooden sword down on the man’s face. She gathered her surroundings quickly, but by that point the man had Caleb by his arm, a bruising grip. She looked rapidly between them as Caleb shouted “QUINN, RUN!” She shouldn’t run, she shouldn’t abandon her brother, but she was terrified. Her knight’s spirit fell in the face of real, true danger, she wasn’t brave. She was weak. She turned to start running._  

The night air, refreshing a moment ago, was beginning to suffocate her. All at once, she started running, fast and hard. She pushed her limbs, stressed her lungs, starting at a reckless pace already at the limits of her speed. She wasn’t suffocating anymore, because her body was desperately grasping at any air it could get.

_She didn’t get far before a cry of pain stopped her. She turned to see the shining blood on a blade protruding from her small brother’s back. It was coming through him. The blade held by the assassin was completely through him. She felt a scream building in her throat._

The familiar sensation started growing in her, and the same control that had always counteracted it. She would not scream. She could not express the terror she felt - she had to be stronger than that. She was already so weak, she needed this little bit to let her tell herself she was strong in some way.

_His body fell to the ground. The assassin turned to look at her and she was running again. All of his dreams, gone. His laughing eyes, his endless energy, his constant encouragement. It was all destroyed in a matter of seconds by cruelty, by that blade, by that man. And she had just run away. He had saved her - she was the one who was caught! - and he had saved her, but she couldn’t save him. She had failed him, failed her family, failed everyone. She was so weak and she would never be a knight, never be brave, never be able to protect… anyone._

She stopped and she screamed. The word “no” came at the end of it and she hit her knees, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her air. This mission was her opportunity to protect everyone - her family, friends, Demacia. War would mean death for so many, so many more lost in just seconds. She could prevent it - she could protect them. Her eyes moved to the sky as Valor landed on her shoulder, as a single drop of rain landed on her forehead. Never again would she lose someone because she was too weak to protect them. She would not fall prey to weakness or cowardice in the face of danger. Never again.

 

\---

 

The Ivory Ward was heavily guarded at night, but Talon knew how to slip past guards with ease. He didn’t even have to try and usually, he would have made a game of leaving signs of intrusion, just to see them scramble. But tonight he had a purpose. He was scouting out the area, the location that the paper had given him. Tomorrow night was the date, the time, he’d been given, and while he was duly cautious, he wasn’t giving up his lead. The only lead in so long, to the general. The excitement turned his blood into a lovely fire.

The house was a smaller manor, nondescript really. He felt there was some sort of magic at work because it was just so boringly ordinary, but he wasn’t an expert on magic. He definitely couldn’t take this to Cassi or a summoner

He shadowed into another alleyway, content with what information he had gathered over the past few hours. He knew the outside layout, the ways in, the weaknesses in the walls, and how to make a quick getaway should he need to. Now he just needed to plan out a disguise of sorts. A smirk crossed his lips - he could just lose the cloak. No one ever saw his face.

A covered hole in the alleyway made him stop and he stared down at it pensively, before he reached to lift the iron. He slid down into the sewers with a remembered ease, before he even realized why he was doing it.

The catacombs of the sewer system, underground Noxus, had not changed in any number of years. He still could trace the routes in his mind like yesterday he was a thief running from the brutal law, thin and hunger-driven.

_The ground was wet underneath his feet, wrapped only in cloth. Stealing shoes was much less important than stealing food - one was needed to live, the other not so. He ignored what made the ground wet, more focused on the pain in his gut. The anger of failure, the fading fear of being caught, and the hunger all tore at his mind. Where had Kavyn been? The other boy had failed him again… and it nearly led to his death this time._

_“You made it!” The familiar voice echoed in the dark and a match revealed the dirty boy’s face. He lit a pile of trash, then turned to Talon eagerly. “Did you get anything?”_

_“A bag of berries - I dropped it while I was_ **_running_ ** _. Where were you?”_

_“I… I found a drunk outside a tavern. Instead I stole these.” The careless boy pulled out a package and unwrapped blades that glowed in the firelight. Talon’s eyes caught on them and wouldn’t leave. He reached for one, feeling the weight in his hand. The nearness of the blade told him how shoddy it was - poor quality, handles splintering. There were notches in the blade itself._

_“We can sell them for food. It should last us a few days, right?”_

_Talon couldn’t bring himself to look up at his comrade - the only real one he’d ever had. He’d spent so many years roughing it alone… And Kavyn was weak. He was reliant on Talon. He… he was a vulnerability, a weak link. Kavyn failed as a thief and his mind didn’t work fast enough to help either of them._

_He was digging out potatoes from their food crate, what little food they had left. He was completely unaware of the danger near him - he trusted Talon to figure out what to do with the blades, to save both of them. Anger licked at Talon’s heart._

_He’d heard once that the strongest found their way out of the gutter. He’d heard that the strong relied on no one but themselves. Kavyn was not strong and with him, Talon could not claw his way out. The realization was daunting, weighty on his soul. Kavyn could not make it in this world and Talon could not risk them both by continuing to try to carry him._

_His arm went around Kavyn’s body, the blade slid through his throat so easily. The boy choked once and Talon caught him before he collapsed. Blood soaked his arms and he carried the boy to the sewer system. He dropped the body and turned away. He could have never carried them both - and this way, Kavyn would never be struck down by crueler hands._

This hollow was barely recognizable in comparison to the other hollows, but the old crate was still there. The pile of paper and cloth had flattened to the ground, what had once been a bed. Talon could almost imagine the bloodstains in the earth, the blood of the first friend he had ever had, and the first person he had ever killed. Before when he thought about it, he had felt only emptiness.

Now, though, he pictured other things. His usually calm mind rushed ahead, giving him images of striking down Katarina, striking down Cassi, betraying the general in a wash of blood. They trusted him, the DuCouteaus, and for once he finally felt the weight of it. Kavyn had trusted him and he had betrayed him in a moment of realization. Talon wondered if he was capable of doing the same to the people he now called family. He wondered at the depth of the darkness in his soul.

He spun on his heel and moved towards what he knew was the nearest exit. He would not betray his family - it was different now. He was strong enough to carry them all if he needed to, strong enough to protect them from anything. He would never betray another person who trusted him, another person who meant anything to him - because so few did. Kat, Cassi, the general, they were his. He would never betray them or anyone who trusted him like that again.  

As he slipped out of the underground, through a pile of trash, he remembered the sleeping redhead in that tent, that Demacian scout that for some godforsaken reason had trusted him enough to fall asleep in his presence, in foreign lands. Her face had been so peaceful.

He made a scoffing sound and at the manor when Kat commented on the fact he smelled like trash, he walked past her without a word. 

He could wash it all away, because never again.


	10. It's All Just Smoke and Mirrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya guys! I'm updating again - I'm feeling prolific. I don't know how many of you are still around but if you are, I love you to death. I'm going to try and keep a similar pace (or any pace at all), and with the help of a friendly cormorant, I might succeed. :D  
> This chapter is a little longer than the others but we're getting actual interaction. There's a lot of build-up going on here, but don't worry, there will be nice rewards in the next chapter for patience.   
> Anyways, pls comment! Even just little comments make my heart leave my chest in absolute jubilation. I love you all!   
> \- Lunacy

Quinn had always struggled with deception, but she felt for Demacia she could do anything. Even so, she was daunted by the object in the mirror. Object was the only word she had for it - that visage was not her own, there was nothing of her in her reflection. The deception itself had become an object with physical form and that form was staring back at her with red eyes. 

“And how is it?” The small being at her side seemed eager to hear her response, bright eyes under bushy brows searching her face. She gave him a passing glance before her focus returned to her candlelit reflection. 

“It’s not me,” she said slowly, “but that’s the point. I look nothing like a Demacian… I look like I belong in Noxus.” She shook her head, taking a step back from the mirror. “I hate it, but it’s necessary.”

From the floor near her feet, she heard an abomination of noise that could barely be described as a screech. Curling in an attempt at grace around her ankles, the fluffy monstrosity that her dear friend had been turned into flopped pitifully onto the tops of her black boots. He was gray, long-haired, with golden-green eyes, and she could tell he was hating every minute of it. She leaned down to pet him, offering him what comfort she could. 

She glanced back up into the mirror, analyzing herself. Her hair was black now, so dark it had blue highlights, and was sleek and silk against her head. She missed the red mess she kept back with her headbands. Her face was just a bit more angular, so that her expression was sharp, almost hinting at violence. The glamor gem was in her pocket right now, but since it was embedded in a cloth headpiece, she assumed she was supposed to be wearing it. The gemmed headband was red and black, like everything else. Her outfit was something she wouldn’t have been surprised to see Shauna Vayne wear - but they had at least spared her any attempt at walking in heels. The boots were knee-high, though, different than anything she would have chosen on her own. 

“Can we make one change?” She finally requested, glancing up at the magesmith, who gave her a curious look. “I want my eyes, at least the color, to be the same.”    
His look hardened and he studied her. She knew she was asking for something risky, but she couldn’t  quite deal with the feeling of the absolute stranger in the mirror. The dissonance was too great. 

“I suppose if you’re bothered enough to ask, I can grant you that. It’s your own life at stake, besides.” She brought out the gem and with a touch, it was changed. She glanced back at the mirror and found her own amber eyes staring back. It steadied her. She stood up, Valor in her arms. 

The magesmith offered a nod and then he was gone. In his place, Shyvana entered the room, giving the scout a cursory glance. “It’ll do. Do you know your way?” 

“A scout always knows her way - else she find a better one.” 

The dragonborn scoffed, crossing her arms. “Do you have everything? Road rations, the communication scroll, enough bolts?” 

“They gave me a different weapon - it’s called a stonebow. It’s the same principle, I’m just firing stones or metal pellets.” Quinn made a face, and saw the strangeness of it out of the corner of her eye. “I’ve got it down - I’ll be just as precise soon.” She glanced down at the feline in her arms. “I would worry more about Valor’s transition.”   
“You’re just there to spy, Quinn.” Shyvana’s voice was harsh and it changed the air of the room. “No risks, understand me? You’re coming home.”

Quinn paused, noticing the fire in the dragon’s eyes, the faint flickers around her fingertips all in a second. She was upset, but the scout knew better than to mention it. “I’m coming home. Of course.” 

The fire became a glare, but she nodded. She stepped to the side and with that, Quinn knew she was dismissed. Her mission began. 

\---

The trek to Noxus was strangely easy. Quinn spent the time practicing with the weapon so similar but yet completely unlike her crossbow. The ammunition had no feathers, no need for them, and while she could have found that more practical, she hated the difference.

Valor was not adjusting quite so well. He at least could walk effectively now, but he lacked any of the grace a cat would possess. His hunting attempts were tragic and his meows were abysmal. Somehow, though, the sounds were familiar enough that Quinn could understand him. She found herself struggling just a bit without his body language to guide her - especially considering that all his catform would give her was clear unhappiness. 

Noxus Prime was an intimidating city, the walls around it ebony and reaching for the sky, ragged spikes attempting to drag the stars from the heavens. Quinn managed to keep her disgust off of her face. The streets, especially near the walls, was a mess, dirty and full of trash. The passersby all looked rough, the type of people to slit your purse before greeting you. She’d heard Bilgewater was rougher than Noxus, but in the light of what she was currently seeing, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. These people were… savages. She missed Demacia already, but that came as no surprise. 

She had to find the Ivory Ward, but with no signs, it was going to prove a difficult task. A hand touched her shoulder and she spun, her bow already out and close to her left, under the black traveling cloak she wore. The man in front of her stood grinning, his hands up to the sky. “Calm down, little missy, you just looked like you needed a little help.” 

“I don’t need any help.” She answered sharply. “Don’t you know it’s bad manners to be so grabby?” 

His grin never faded, hazel eyes twinkling in amusement. Somehow, it only made her more angry at the situation. “Just tell me where you’re headed. Let me help.” 

She lowered her bow, returning it to the holster at her hip. “The Ivory Ward. Directions, nothing more, got it?” Channelling her inner Shyvana was hard for the usually friendly scout, but she was in the nest of kin-killers. She couldn’t afford to make friends. 

“Got it, got it. Just head straight - this road will get you there, but you might pass through one of the execution yards. I hear the executioner is putting on a show today. Would hate for a pretty lady like you to get cut up - I mean, caught up in it.” 

Quinn shook her head and pulled a couple coins from her bag. She tossed them to him, taking a step back. “Thanks for your time…” She almost encouraged him to have a good day, but even acting she couldn’t push the words past her lips. She turned and kept walking. 

 

\--

 

For one of the best assassins in all of Valoran, being sneaky was damn hard in this house. With Cassiopeia’s constant awareness of every going-on in the manor and Katarina’s sense that perhaps something was up with the younger DuCouteau that kept her checking on him, even going out to purchase clothes for his approaching endeavor had been a trial. He’d tried to avoid colors he usually preferred, blue or red, which left him with a pile of olive green, black and dusty gray cloth on his bed. He pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed tiredly. He hated all of it, but for the cause. 

“Changing up your look?” The voice from the doorway made him tense and he didn’t look at the redhead, offering a dismissive shrug. 

“For the matches, something different.” He was usually much better at coming up with lies on the fly, but his behavior was quite out of the ordinary. “I’m going up for practice tonight.” At least that gave him an excuse for disappearing, keep them from worrying temporarily. By tomorrow night, though, they would realize that he wasn’t where he’d said, and realize they couldn’t find him. It frustrated him that he couldn’t even leave a note, offer an explanation for his behaviors, but he knew that the fiery head of house Du Couteau would never let him undertake something like this alone. She would give him opposing orders and while he could ignore them, doing so would destroy what little balance his life had. So he would have to leave in silence, in deceit, and survive the Black Rose before he could tell either of his sisters what he’d done. Ideally by then he would have information about the general and perhaps that would be enough to quell their wrath. 

Katarina moved to plop on his bed beside the pile of clothes, picking up a shirt and examining it. Her eyes flicked from the cloth to him and she commented, “Green is very much not your color.” 

He rolled his eyes in response, leaning against the wall. “I’m not out there to look good - I’m out there to win, to prove my own power. Worrying about appearances is more Cassi’s forte rather than mine.”

“Isn’t it though.” She tossed the shirt back down and leaned back on her hands. “And I suppose mine now. I have to uphold the family’s appearance.” In the silence after, words hung in the air, unspoken and unnecessary. Without the general, a lot of duties had fallen to Katarina and while she was sorely underprepared for their weight, she bore it well. 

She glanced up and shoved the unspoken words away, “How do matches feel for you? Cass is enjoying the positive attention she receives - and no one will dare give her anything negative.”

“It is a distraction, nothing more. Another field to prove my talents - if limited. Some of the summoners have the strategic talent of a rock.” The broken silence relieved him and the opening to useless conversation, away from his odd behaviors, was more than fortunate. 

Katarina was relieved that he seemed fine. His actions since the general vanished had been focused, driven, but unnerving. She worried about what he might do to find him - but she could never voice those concerns aloud. She offered a nod and stood up again. “I’ll tell Cass you’ll be gone. I’m sure she’ll leave something tasty for you.” She lazily stretched and then she was gone. 

Talon let a slow breath out and he started packing the new clothes into a bag, along with care tools for his blades, the broken watch. At nightfall, he left through his window. His room was immaculate, but he’d left much of what he’d acquired in it. 

The Ivory Ward was so quiet tonight. He settled in an alleyway to watch, to wait for the time to approach the small house. 

 

\---

 

The room was utterly silent and Quinn was nervous. Her heart was racing along in her chest and she was certain someone should be able to hear it. Logically, she knew someone couldn’t, but she felt so… out of place. 

Her original mission scroll had told her to show up at this location at a very specific time. At the same time, eleven other people had appeared, all of them young, agitated, but excited. Each person was vastly different, in air, in appearance, but Quinn knew that all of them came from Noxus. 

They had been at the door when it opened - none of them had spoken a word to each other - and they were greeted by a tall blonde in a yellow and purple dress. They all followed her inside without a word and they had been left in this room, this odd underground sanctuary, seated in a circle. Around them in alcoves behind each chair were torches of spectrolite flame, flickering somehow eagerly. The blonde had left them here, sitting in silence and barely looking at each other. 

Quinn had Valor curled on her shoulders and he was studying each of the room’s occupants. Abruptly, his tail flicked her nose and her eyes came up, finding what the cat had discovered immediately. Dead across from her, lounging with what she assumed was faked ease, was Talon. 

The scout found her immediate response to be relief and that confused her. There was no reason at all that the presence of  a loyal Noxian assassin in a room full of loyal Noxians should ever make her feel relieved. A moment of self-searching had her deduce that seeing a familiar face was the only reason she felt the relief and that gave her enough wherewithal to push away the feeling. 

Valor slid off of her lap and padded across the room. In a moment, he was on Talon’s knee, giving him the most pointed look a cat’s face could manage. Quinn covered her mouth to hide her temporary amusement, and only her complete trust in her partner kept worry from following it. 

Talon stared blankly down at the cat perched on him, looking for all the world like it was his right to be there. He couldn’t just shove the furball off - if he made any attention-drawing actions, it could tear down everything he was trying to do. Why was the cat here in the first place? Why had it chosen him, out of everyone, to bother?

He looked for the feline’s owner and after a momentary glance, he let his eyes drop back to the cat. He had never seen the woman before in his life - there was no reason that her cat should have any interest in him. 

The animal’s eyes, though, were strangely intelligent. They seemed to pierce into his mind, see past any facade he was working with, and honestly it was unnerving. It acted like it  _ knew  _ him. He frowned as it opened its mouth and out came a… chirp? A sound that was very much… not a cat sound. 

It didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. The noise seemed a pointed communication, one that Talon couldn’t begin to understand. With a very put-upon expression, the cat hopped back down off of his lap. The motion was awkward, oddly unpracticed, and then the fuzzball had returned to its owner. Talon gave the woman a slightly more intense study, while feigning indifference, but couldn’t for the life of him… her eyes made him pause a second. Something about them was incredibly familiar, but he couldn’t place the feeling, couldn’t conjure up any links. 

 

His internal discourse stopped when a woman appeared in the center of the circle. He recognized her instantly - Emilia Leblanc. She turned a slow circle, her amethyst eyes sweeping the room. It was quick, but no one in the room felt that it wasn’t very thorough - almost invasive. Quinn felt that she received half a second of attention longer, but she wasn’t sure. 

“Neophytes.” Leblanc’s voice was rolling, alluring, and it filled the room with something that could only be described as magic. “Your presence here indicates interest - and that interest is a contract. From this point on, you belong to the Black Rose.” She paced a circle, nearly brushing legs with her half-cloak, pausing briefly to meet eyes here and there. “She is is your queen, your home, your haven - but she is also your duty, your loyalty, your creed. She comes first - even over your own lives.” She stopped in the center once more, crossing her arms. Her staff tapped the ground, the small click resounding over the gathered group. “If your loyalty is ever even questioned, if you ever turn your back on her, you will be destroyed. There are no second chances here. Is that understood?” 

There was no hesitation in the responses she received, however quiet they were in the face of her declarations, and she nodded. “Good.  Clawmore.” The blonde from before moved forward and Leblanc was gone. 

“Your induction period will last three months - at the end, those of you alive will be welcomed into the fold. Of the twelve of you, I estimate no more than four will make it.” The thought seemed to amuse her, a smile growing on her face. “Now, the person directly across from you is your partner for the duration. You will train with them, learn with them - but never trust them. Our greatest weapon is deceit, after all.” She gestured for everyone to stand and she pulled a book from seemingly nothing. The large tome fell open in her hands and she began reading. 

 

\--- 

 

Quinn still wasn’t able to shake the feelings the chants had imbued her with - a shakiness in her center, an odd electricity in her limbs. She had felt like running away for a long moment before she just clutched Valor closer and steadied herself. 

The room they’d been given - unfortunately they meaning three and not two - was large enough to comfortably contain two people without a drastic amount of awkwardness. Even more unfortunate though was the fact that she was now sharing a room with the assassin from house Du Couteau. She wanted to confess just a little, tell him enough of the truth that she would have an almost comrade in this madhouse, but she knew better than that. All the nights in Kalamanda had been working conditions, orders - they weren’t friends. 

But what was he doing here? From what she’d been hearing in Demacia, the whispers between the Vanguard, the Du Couteaus weren’t involved in any secret organizations. Even more so, it had more the reputation as a mage organization - a few assassins, but not many - so he couldn’t be here to hone a skill. Not that he likely thought he needed to learn anything, she’d gathered well enough what his opinion of his own skill was during their long night strategies in Kalamanda. She knew he was disdainful of magic. He had to have his own reasons for being here and getting them out of him seemed likely impossible. She would just have to play this like she would have if he hadn’t been here at all - to do anything else would complicate the already dangerous mission further. 

She’d chosen the bed closest to the wall, farthest from the door, when they were brought here. She’d set her bag down at the foot of the bed, slipped off her shoes, and laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Valor was on her stomach, watching the other occupant of the room unwaveringly. She was trying to change her normal behaviors - it wouldn’t do for him to recognize her from gestures alone - so faking complete comfort seemed ideal. 

The silence, however, was going to drive her crazy. “If we’re going to room together, you might as well tell me your name.” She had practiced altering her voice, aiming for something a little deeper and certainly less caring. She was pleased that it came out dismissive. 

There was more silence and then he answered, simply, “Kavyn.” 

That made her pause. So he wasn’t here as Talon - he was in disguise as well. A poor disguise, really, but… She hesitated, realizing it seemed to be working. No one had called him out as Talon. It could only be the absence of the cloak, but had he hidden his face from so many? She might have even been duped if she hadn’t drawn his face so carefully back in Kalamanda. What an interesting way to live, using less coverage to hide. “Kavyn,” she said, testing the sound, “I’m… Lestara.” There was a definite pause before she said the name, surprised that she’d forgotten to think of an alias. He clearly caught the pause, but didn’t comment on it. She moved forward to cover up the slip, “And this is Rolav.”

“Rolav,” he repeated, barely managing to keep a chuckle out of his voice. What a ridiculous name for a cat. When he finally glanced at the two, he could see Rolav giving the woman what appeared to be a totally disgusted look. She seemed a little ashamed for a moment before it vanished from her face. 

“They said we’re all supposed to eat together in the morning,” Quinn commented idly when Valor stopped glaring. “So we should probably sleep.” 

He scoffed softly. Like he would sleep with a stranger in the same room. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head just enough to watch her sit up, dig through her bag, and pull out some sort of nut-fruit bar. She broke it in half, stood up and moved over to him, holding it out. 

He couldn’t keep the incredulous disdain from his face and she rolled her eyes. She broke a piece off of the part she was holding and popped it into her mouth. After a moment, she gestured at herself, “See? No poison. Just take the damn food.” 

The action and her overall disposition gave him strong recollections of Kalamanda, but she was clearly not Quinn. The scout was probably somewhere in Demacia defending justice or something equally ridiculous. He took the half though, deciding that fighting it would be more tiresome than just giving in. She returned to her bed and the cat returned to the place it had claimed on her stomach. 

After she ate, she pulled out a new drawing pad, because having the one full of Demacia and its values would have given her away. She felt a little empty staring at the blank pages, but she started drawing anyway - and there was no way to disguise the motions to be any less hers. 

Talon had settled himself into ignoring her and sharpening his blades, but the motions eventually drew his attention again. She was… drawing? What was it with women who had animal companions being so artsy? This was clearly not the time, nor the place… but he shouldn’t really care. He was stuck sharing a room with her, but if Clawmore’s words had been accurate, she was likely dead within the next three months. He had no doubt he would survive - in fact he intended to do more than even that, but it never occurred to him that he was in any danger. His confidence was a flawless steel tower around him - but every tower falls, eventually. 

 

\---

 

He didn’t sleep and he’d had a very dizzy moment of deja vu about halfway through the night. He’d looked over and she was most definitely asleep, so he considered killing her now. Having a room to himself would be nice anyway. But just as the thought crossed his mind, he noticed Rolav’s very intense study of his every move. She wasn’t as unprotected as he’d initially thought and for some reason, he didn’t think he wanted to go hand-to-hand, or even blade-to-claw, with that cat. 

Talon had gone sleepless before - the concept was by no means foreign to the assassin - so he felt his senses were just as sharp the next day as the neophytes were all gathered from their rooms and into a banquet hall that was also illuminated by more purple torches. He was beginning to get annoyed at the organization’s focus on aesthetic. 

They were seated beside their partners and food was served, very similar to a noble dinner party. He liked it about as much as he had every other dinner party he had attended - in short, he didn’t. At all. But for his cause he had expected a little suffering and this was better than some of the alternatives. 

The first course was a pile of leaves in some oil, delivered by small servants in masks, and while Talon wasn’t big on salads, he got the feeling that being a picky eater was a poor choice here, so he merely reached for his fork. 

Quinn had reached her own but Valor abruptly pressed his claws into her legs. She winced and her attention shifted to the agitated feline. He merely gave a pointed look to the food and by the time he looked back at her, she didn’t need the accompanying noise he made to understand. Poisoned - the food was poisoned. Her eyes immediately jerked to Talon and without any hesitation, she grabbed the wrist that held his fork. Half a second later, there was a blade at her throat and they were at a draw, in that he didn’t want to immediately kill her and she didn’t want to make any movements, not even to release him. 

Before she could begin to explain herself, one of the neophytes, a brunette man, directly across from them started choking. As his face came up, Quinn noticed the beginnings of blood at the corners of his eyes. The coughing was bringing up more blood. Within seconds, three more of the neophytes were suffering similar fates, all of them gagging on their own blood and trying to breathe through the toxin’s effects. 

Less than a minute and all four were very dead, their skin a blueish hue and their eyes clouded. Talon hadn’t kept the initial surprise off of his face very well, but by the time Quinn’s eyes returned to his face, his expression was relatively blank. She slowly let go of him and his blade vanished back into his clothing. She gave him a curt nod and leaned back in the chair, trying to figure out how to proceed. The poison was clearly deliberate, of course it was in this place, but what did it  _ mean _ . 

“Well done, little pigeons.” Clawmore swept into the room and seated herself at the head of the table, scanning the remaining neophytes with nothing less than glee on her face. “It’s both impressive and unfortunate that four of your number were lost on the first day - but you were all warned.” She lifted her hand and abruptly she held a bell. A single chime from it saw the food replaced by the quiet servants from before. This time, Valor sniffed very thoroughly and found the fare acceptable. Quinn ate, but not much, deciding to rely on her rations as long as she could. She had about… thirty more of the bars stacked in her bag and if she continued to share with Talon - which she would, not a single question in her mind - that would give her about fifteen days before she would have to get concerned. That wasn’t a good prognosis. With a sigh, she ran a hand along Valor’s back. They would figure it out. They always did. 

Many of the neophytes seemed to have poor appetites after the earlier display and continuing to eat next to the bodies of the fallen couldn’t be helpful. After the meal was finished, they moved as a group into a hallway. Quinn didn’t think she would ever forget the bodies limp against the tables, one still clutching his fork, and the blood staining the tablecloth. 

They were tested for basic skills and Quinn proved her usefulness with the stonebow - the practice on the road had given her more than enough finesse with it. Talon proved his blade talent, but tried to keep himself from being too impressive. He had a reputation and he couldn’t risk discovery - but he also couldn’t just up and learn a new weapon, a new form of fighting. He didn’t feel whole without a blade in his hand. 

The tests divided them into an additional two groups - those suited for magic and those suited for assassination. These classifications rearranged some of the rooms, but Quinn and Talon were untouched. The event earlier in the day left everyone on edge and there were no more fatalities. Four was probably enough for the first day anyway. 

The room that night definitely had more tense of an air than the night before. Quinn did her best to ignore it, trying not to push the assassin in any way. He was the one that spoke, though, about halfway through the night, “I suppose you think I owe you gratitude.” 

She paused, looking up from her paper. After a moment, she shook her head, “You don’t owe me anything.” Her tone left him believing she truly meant it. 

“Then why..?” He couldn’t stop himself asking, his own curiosity too great. He hated that he asked because it felt like vulnerability, but the words were in the air now, hanging by threads of confusion. 

Her eyes went back to her drawing pad and she seemed to be wrestling with some thought. The conclusion she came to was an uncertain one, but she was not a deceitful person. The constant acting was wearing on her and it had only been a day. She needed some form of truth. “I felt that perhaps Katarina shouldn’t have to deal with two losses.” She said finally. She looked up in time to see the shock on his face, flowing into calculation, flowing into danger. She’d made a mistake. 

He couldn’t figure out how she knew. Perhaps he had slipped up somewhere or, in the worst case scenario, he was completely obvious. He doubted the last, though, but her knowledge was unfortunate and a liability he couldn’t afford right now. No amount of potential life debt was worth the weight of danger this posed. 

She saw him tense just before he moved. She was off her bed before he reached it and he corrected himself to aim for the foot of it instead. The blade parted the air just above her shoulder, a drastic miss. She was wide-eyed, clearly surprised by him, but her reactions were so precise, as if she could predict him. He definitely didn’t like that thought and he blurred towards her again. This time she surprised him by practically meeting him halfway. There was a brief second where he wondered what her plan was and then her foot landed squarely in his chest. His next awareness was her across the room, ready with her stonebow. She was much more agile than he’d given her credit for - stronger too. She’d winded him, but he was more surprised that she was reading him. Still, he could read her and he sensed a hesitation. She didn’t want to hurt him, it seemed like, for whatever reason. Since he didn’t feel a similar hesitation, that could put him at an advantage. 

They circled each other, him looking for weaknesses, her preparing to defend. The deadlock continued for another long moment and it gave them enough time to study each other, in more than just passing glances. He was wiry, but she could see the power in his movement, the graceful threat in his limbs. His eyes were beautiful and she would have expected them to be expressive. Perhaps once, they had been, but now they were hard copper, unyielding, but not dead, not flat. He was vibrant, controlled. She could see his mind turning behind those eyes, trying to find the way best to cut her down - though what she had done to deserve it, she didn’t quite understand. 

He could see the keen energy behind each shift she made, trying to keep him at a distance. The harder he studied her, though, the more confused he became. The strength he’d felt earlier didn’t seem present in the slimness she had and he noticed the way she stood didn’t seem quite right in the clothing she wore. She seemed… uncomfortable, in ways that were deeper than just the current situation. The only part of her that seemed in any way  _ fitting _ was her eyes. They still seemed so familiar and it bothered him more that he wanted it to.    
The next burst of speed got him close enough to slash out. He clipped her side as she twisted away, but he heard the soft gasp that indicated pain. He’d gotten her - progress. Now it was just about whittling her down, then the execution. 

Quinn was beginning to get annoyed and more than that, she felt injured to a deeper degree than the cut on her side. She was, for some illogical and quite ridiculous reason, upset that he was so ready to hurt her. She’d saved his life less than twenty-four hours ago and he was trying so damn hard to shove that blade through her ribs. Did Noxians have no sense of decency? Even worse, she couldn’t bring herself to kill him, even for self-preservation. If she had  _ ever  _ been ready to save his life, then she was always ready to save his life. It was just impossible for her to turn around and kill him now. 

When he saw her stance waver just a hairlength, he leapt into action once more. This time, his blade sunk home into her shoulder. She jerked away and took the blade with her. The stonebow skittered on the floor and she stumbled back against the wall. There were ruby beads sprinkled on the floor and she was cornered, her amber eyes bright with what he guessed was fear. She was holding the hilt of the blade, keeping it in for now because removing it would just lead to more bloodloss. 

He smirked. He’d won, he just had to finish her off. He took a step forward and a weight struck his ankle, sending him sprawling. The additional blade he’d had in his hand flew behind the farthest bed. 

In the center of the floor, Valor was fixing them both with stern disapproval. He gave Talon a warning glance and then Quinn a chiding one, but he didn’t move from the floor. The assassin was feeling a little angry now, displeased that the easy kill had been delayed by something so unnecessary. 

“Oh, now you step in, Valor. He could have gotten me in a lung or something, but you didn’t feel the need to help out?” 

A purring trill was the only answer she got and she rolled her eyes, before focusing on the blade again. She shifted a little and winced when she felt the edge digging into her further. This was all just… really unfortunate, but she didn’t know why she had expected better from a Noxian. Just as the thought crossed her mind, she noticed that something about the handle was familiar. Under all the blood, the colors were Demacian, definitely Demacian. Somehow, it was even more distressful that he’d stabbed her with his goddamn Snowdown present. 

He’d paused where he was, halfway off the floor and with another dagger in his hand. He looked between the cat and the woman several times, processing a little haltingly. Then, he mumbled, “Rolav… Valor. I’m a blind fool.” He sat back, resting his arms on his knees and staring down the Demacian scout. He’d ignored every sign because of his own pride, his own confidence in his knowledge. It was tragic really. 

Quinn could see the realization on his face and she shifted uncomfortably, which brought another pained hiss from her. Without much else to say or do, she finally offered lamely, “Hi, Talon.” 

He managed a startled chuckle, but nothing more for a long few seconds. He didn’t intend to answer her the way he did, but the words came anyway, “Apparently Demacian steel is pretty good.” 

Two pairs of eyes focused on him, the greener pair disbelieving and the amber set clearly affronted. He didn’t let them see his discomfort, but he was well aware how out of his depth he was. 

Valor stood up and paced between them, then let out one of his screech-meows in Talon’s direction. Memories of Kalamanda crept up and he sighed tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He pushed himself up, sheathing the blade in his hand, and made his way over to Quinn. He eyed the blade and was oddly pleased that he hadn’t skewered the joint. Usually that would have meant shoddy aim, but here that was a blessing more than a failure. “Do you have a medkit?”

“In my travel bag.” 

He nodded and moved to dig through the bag until he came up with a smaller bag with a tiny leaf stitched into the side. He moved back over to the injured scout and noticed she flinched away, just a little. For some reason, he didn’t much like that. 

“Let it go.” He ordered, waiting for her hand to be out of the way before he did anything with the injury. She hesitated, then she dropped the hand. He grasped the handle and glanced at her face. No counting, no warning, he jerked the metal out of her flesh. She cursed and the swearing sounded so odd in her voice that he laughed. He ignored the sharp look she gave him and started wrapping up the shoulder, stemming the flow of blood. It’d been a deep shot. Unfortunate. 

When he finished, he rested back on his heels, somewhat pleased with what he felt was a good deed. Valor’s unholy screech-meow rose up behind him and he jumped a little. The cat came around to their side, giving Talon a stern look. The assassin couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he had done wrong. The cat screeched again and Quinn winced a little, understanding. Talon picked up on the understanding and his expression grew expectant. 

The scout considered them both before finally sighing and sitting up a little straighter. “Help me with the cut on my side?” 

“Oh, sure.” He’d caused the damage, he might as well help with - and her shirt was off. 

Thankfully in the few seconds it took for his brain to start working again, she was reorienting herself to give him better access to the wound. “That one I almost dodged. You’re fast.” 

“Ah, thanks,” he responded, a slight hesitance in his tone. He shouldn’t be  _ this  _ addled just because she was for the most part topless - Katarina generally existed in scantier clothes - but he was. At the very least he was managing not to stare at anything… important. 

When she was bandaged, he shifted back to give her room, moving his attention to the cat. It was easy to direct his displeasure at Valor and blame the entire situation on him somehow - it even made Talon feel a little better. He kept his eyes on Valor, but started speaking again, “So, did you learn magic or...?” 

“Why would I learn magic?” 

When he gave her a pointed look, she remembered her appearance. She pulled the headpiece off and tossed it with her right hand, a little awkwardly, towards her bed. When it passed five feet, the magic faded, the image melted away. Quinn felt… better without the mirage around her, though the spellwork was much closer to the polymorph that changed Valor than a simple illusion. She ran her hand through her messy red hair and it was a tactile therapy, rejuvenating her soul from the day’s events. 

Talon was more comfortable seeing her like this, but the clothes she wore most definitely didn’t suit her. “So you’re glamored… but why?” 

While it pleased her that some of the talkativeness she’d worked out of him in Kalamanda remained, she didn’t appreciate his pressing into her motives. Her eyes were unyielding now and he wasn’t used to that - he’d only seen it during that one outburst - but he returned a similar look. “Why are  _ you _ here? I know magic isn’t on the path you’ve chosen for yourself.” 

They sat in silence for a moment, natural distrust marring the air between them. However amiable they’d gotten before, it hadn’t been enough to override the suspicion years of rearing had built into their blood. Noxians were evil, brutal, destructive. Demacians were weak, foolish, mindless soldiers. They were enemies. 

“Are you a blood-traitor?” He asked finally, hoping it was a question with a vague enough answer he would get  _ something _ . 

She countered with, “Have you turned into a mumbling scroll-reader?” 

He sighed, “No. No I haven’t.”

A small smile crossing her face, internally pleased she’d stuck with it, she answered, “I am not a blood traitor.”

They were both here for information and the indirect questions had indicated it to both of them. Quinn leaned her head back, gently rubbing her shoulder, “You’re a good fighter.” 

“If I’d twisted the blade, you wouldn’t be able to move it.” Reminded of the recent scuffle, he stood up and got his blade from the other side of her bed. As an afterthought, he picked up her stonebow and walked over to offer it to her. 

As she took it, she asked, “Well then why didn’t you?” 

He faltered. He hadn’t known he was fighting the scout - why hadn’t he gone all-out? He recovered quickly, shrugging. “Didn’t feel like wasting the energy - you were easy enough to bring down.”

Fire flared in her eyes. “I wasn’t even trying to hurt you,” she retaliated, starting to push herself into standing. The pain the action caused flickered on her face, fading the edges of the wrathful expression. He wanted to tell her to sit back down, that moving around was probably a bad idea, but the fact that he wanted to unsettled him. So he didn’t. Instead, he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, “Yes, an idiotic mistake that nearly cost you your life.” 

The flames seemed to grow, and then she abruptly cooled. “Fine, you’re right. Next time, I won’t hold back. I hope you like jerking arrows out of your hide.” 

His eyes moved back to her face, but paused just a little lower, remembering abruptly that she still wasn’t wearing a shirt. When he realized what he was doing, he forced his gaze higher, but his snark had dissipated. 

She wasn’t even looking at him, instead looking at Valor, who had moved to her bed during their flare-up of a fight. He was relieved by that, because he was in no way equipped to deal with her calling him out on his actions, and he backed up to sit on the edge of his bed. Talon didn’t like the fractured edges of tension in the air, the remaining anger that still seeped from her, and with a sigh, he decided to attempt to smooth it over. “Perhaps I had some sense that killing you was a bad idea.” 

That got her attention again and she went to cross her arms, but was reminded not-so-gently that movement hurt. At least she was getting used to it. “Some sense? Did you recognize me?” 

The urge to lie flared, but he knew it wouldn’t work with everything that had already happened. He shook his head. “No, but there was something familiar about you. It had been hovering in the back of my mind, but I admit I was rather… slow to see.” 

“Huh.” She left the bloodied shirt on the floor and went to her back to finally - thankfully in Talon’s mind - retrieve a new one. “Though ideally that’s just because we’ve interacted before. I’ve never seen anyone else here ever - they’re all Noxians.” She said the word like it was dirty and caught it afterwards, offering Talon a halfway remorseful glance. “So...hopefully that means no one else has recognized me.”   
“That could be a fatal mistake.”    
Quinn nodded and for half a moment, her nervousness was very clear on her face. She reached for Valor and as her hand brushed his fur, the anxiety vanished. Talon wondered if the emotion was truly gone or if she’d just gotten the steadiness to hide it from her companion. 

He moved on, ignoring the emotional display as if she were one of his sisters. “Valor isn’t adapting to feline life well, is he?” The cat looked up at his name and something about the words turned the simple look into a very weighted glare. Talon chuckled, failing to find the cat to be in any way threatening. 

“He’s a lot better than he was a month ago - he misses his wings, I’m sure.” She hesitated, pondering, then added, “He’s not as useful in a fight - we both know it. But I’m not here to fight.” Only if something went wrong and in that case, it was likely neither of the scouting duo would walk out of here. 

Talon gathered about the same, but didn’t voice it. He started cleaning the blade he’d pulled out of her, pleased there weren’t any nicks in the metal. It really was a good weapon. The next time he looked up, she was asleep, curled up with her head on the wrong side of the bed and on top of the covers. Valor was settled against her, but still watching the assassin. There was no caution to the feline eyes, there was nothing besides vague boredom. 

With another put-upon sigh, Talon took up the blanket on his bed and moved over to drape it over the scout. She didn’t even shift and that pricked at his pride - shouldn’t she be more cautious than this? But Valor’s presence kept her secure. 

Apparently it had a similar effect on him, because this time when he returned to his bed, he also found sleep.


	11. The Sins of the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (( Another chapter, lovelies, happy new year! There's more progress in this chapter - I hope you all enjoy! Remember, comments are fire-starting, creating infernos of creativity! 
> 
> \- Lunacy ))

Talon woke to shuffling. He was immediately alert, ready to fight, but fighting the woman offering him breakfast seemed like a rude response. So instead, he took the proffered bar half and hoped that she didn’t comment on the fact that he’d fallen asleep. 

She didn’t, though whether that was a deliberate choice or not was still a mystery, and they returned to the induction period. 

 

The first month was spent on the most basic skill the Black Rose demanded of its members - finesse and power in combat. They were encouraged to not hold back and if those they fought died, so be it. They lost another two over the course of the month, narrowing them down to six. The light amount of lost was due mostly to some of the practice being done with actual members of the Black Rose - who were not encouraged to kill the inductees except for glaring mistakes. 

 

Talon and Quinn hadn’t gotten close, but they’d developed the beginning of an “us vs them” mindset. They would compare notes on the other inductees, on the members of the Rose. Looking for weaknesses became what they talked about before bed, when they both slept. Talon was relieved that the injury he’d given her had healed up cleanly and hadn’t gotten her killed in practices. He wasn’t sure why he felt relief for either reason, but questioning it seemed like a lot of wasted energy with everything else at hand. 

 

The final day of the month, the inductees were gathered in the evening. They were told to stand near their partners, and then to face them. Quinn met Talon’s eyes for half a second and while her glamored face was much less expressive, he’d learned to read her. She was nervous and that nervousness bled over to him. 

 

“Dear neophytes, the first part to your training trilogy comes to a close,” Clawmore’s voice washed over all of them, the excited energy in it sending the others into nervousness as well. “In this final display, you will fight your partner. You are to hold nothing back - if you are caught pulling your punches, you will fail induction.” She paused, bright red lips going still in anticipation of the next words. “And we  _ all  _ know what failing induction means.” 

 

With space created enough for all of them, Talon found himself facing Quinn down for the second time in a month. He had no worry - he knew he could beat her. He just had to decide if he was going to spare her in this instance or not. 

 

There was a piercing gong and Quinn moved. She was a graceful blur and he only just dodged the fired stone that would have collided with his shoulder. She’d paused about five feet to his left and for half a second, he thought he saw a smirk on her face. 

 

It was gone in an instant. He had the Demacian blade in his hand and they started their circling. Searching her for weaknesses felt too familiar - clearly he’d been spending too much time with her. 

 

At the next opening, he made a dash. He felt his blade cut into air, then a brief weight on his shoulder. A sharp thud behind him, then two sharp impacts caused his spine to stiffen. He spun and she was there, her stance ready and her amber eyes glittering. For reasons he didn’t fully understand, he felt his heart accelerate. Only part of it was the fight, the promise of a challenge, essentially the reason he ever felt alive. The other part was something in the back of his mind, flitting away when he tried to grasp it, elusive and playful. He dismissed trying to understand in favor of the action in front of him and he burst into movement again. 

 

Quinn knew that, if she wasn’t holding back, she could likely go even with the Noxian assassin. If he didn’t start taking her seriously, she could definitely beat him. If she’d had Valor, then she could have beaten him in most circumstances. It wasn’t confidence that made her believe this - she just simply knew. 

 

So they danced, and that was all it could have been called. The elegance with which they whirled around each other was stunning, the only instances where they touched sending flashes of light into the air. Every so rarely, the light would have hints of red. Someone was bleeding, or they both were, because the floor was decorated by red speckles. 

 

It reached the point were Talon was having to catch his blades again before going back after her. The energy between them was building infinitely and he couldn’t remember ever feeling this exhilarated in battle. He finally saw the opening he needed, the one that would finish the fight, he just had to get there. He ducked, dodging three rapid pebbles, grabbed his blade and was going for a gut blow - too lost to the adrenaline to consider anything else. But he had to stop short - just short, the blade’s edge pressing into her shirt, but not cutting. Her stonebow was pointed at his face, his right eye. From this distance, it would kill him and she had the advantage. She just had to pull the trigger - he would have to do so much more to just make himself safe. 

 

She’d bested him. This stranger, this quirky scout, this  _ Demacian _ had bested him. He waited to feel shame and it came, but it was shallow. Crowding it was a sudden feeling of mortality and still that same excitement, still unreasonable, still very present. 

 

She met his eyes, then lowered the stonebow and stepped back. She holstered it at her hip, feeling at once all each laceration he’d managed into her skin. Due to the ammunition, the stonebow was better at bruises, but it could still be fatal. 

 

He slowly stood and they noticed at the same time that they had an audience. None of the other inductee battles had proved fatal, but all of them had been much shorter than theirs. All of the eyes in the room were on them and that made them both uneasy. 

 

“Kavyn, Lestara - beautiful,” Clawmore’s voice echoed over them as she approached, heels clicking on the floor. “Excellent form, exquisite strategy. You are both well-matched.” Her tone, while congratulatory, had a dangerous edge that Quinn was struggling to read into. They’d both gotten attention that neither of them wanted. Talon shrugged, trying to be dismissive of the praise and the aching from the scout’s bolts. 

 

Her eyes, a rigid cedar, studied the two before focusing on the neophytes as a collective. Quinn shivered imperceptibly, crossing her arms to drive away a nervous chill. “You’ve all passed into the second stage of induction - this stage is, of course, much more difficult than the previous. Whereas we’ve been challenging your physical capabilities, we will now switch to your mental prowess. This month, it is highly unlikely that you will die physically - but the chances of your minds being broken cannot be dismissed.” Her face was lighting up as she spoke, clearly enthusiastic at the prospects of breaking them. Talon was barely able to keep his disgust beneath the surface. “Return to your rooms, dear little pigeons - you will be retrieved for the first trial tonight or in the morning.” 

 

\--- 

 

As soon as the door shut, Quinn turned to him and gestured towards his bed. “Sit down.” Oddly enough, there was no inflection to her voice - it was flat, but expected to be obeyed. He riled under the order, opening his mouth to protest. Something in her eyes hardened and that was enough to keep him quiet. 

 

He sat down. 

 

She pulled her headpiece off and tossed it at her bed. Her hair had faded to red by the time she hit her knees, digging through her bag and coming up with her medkit. 

 

Quinn couldn’t understand why she was angry. She hadn’t liked that she’d had to fight him - she’d done it out of necessity, but she knew the stonebow dealt damage. He was probably bleeding in some places and he needed to get patched up. She owed him one, anyway. Perhaps she just hadn’t liked her fighting being put on display, as if she were a performer in a show, and that’s why she was angry. That made sense and she made that her reason, subconsciously unwilling to dig deeper. 

 

She moved back over to him and noticed the quiet observation on his face - he was watching her, but there was no snark, no sass. Was he angry at her? She didn’t like the thought, but she couldn’t be bothered to mull it over now. Health first, then they could argue the semantics of his anger. “Where did I get you?” 

 

He did the short mental math required to understand the turn of events - she had a medkit in her hands, she must want to bind him up. He rolled his eyes, waving her off. He felt a twinge from one of the injuries. “Nowhere important.” 

 

Quinn raised a brow and looked very much not convinced - she remembered where she had been aiming and her aim was good. “Talon, just show me the injuries. We need to plan for the trials ahead and you’re delaying it.” 

 

He hated that she was right. With a sigh, he pulled his shirt over his head. Quinn paused, her eyes trailing over the revealed skin, crisscrossed with scars. She’d realized he was a bladesmaster, but it had never occurred to her what it had taken to get him there - how many slashes that had hit home before he learned to dodge, how many fights he must have lost to learn to win. The story of his blade mastery was written in his skin - as well as the weight that his life must have possessed. 

 

Talon felt… self-conscious. He liked his cloaks, his shadows, hiding away and this situation felt incredibly vulnerable to him. He focused on the floor, avoiding her face, but he could feel her studying him. Invasive. Then she went to work, bandaging the shots that had dug blood out of him, checking the ones that had merely bruised. While she was focused on her self-assigned task, he relaxed a little, and began studying her in return. His gaze found gashes in her clothing - he’d landed a lot more than he’d realized - and she didn’t seem to notice them. She was focused on him and that seemed to be absorbing all her mental power. 

  
Quinn learned a lot more about the assassin in these moments than she expected to. She could feel the strength to him, the power under his skin shifting whenever she reached for a new injury. It was a different strength than she was used to seeing in Demacia - where she had seen burly brawn, the Noxian was lithe, grace. In the back of her mind, farther than she could access now, she thought him beautiful, scars included. She finally pulled back, nodding once. He was as patched up as he needed to be and some of the guilt she’d felt from causing the injuries was dissolving. 

 

He grabbed his shirt and covered himself back up again, relieved as the insecurity, for the most part, faded away. He analyzed her for a few long moments and finally asked, hesitatingly, “And yours?” 

 

“My what?” She blinked, confusion filling the now-soft amber eyes, tilting her head at him. He was relieved she was somewhat back to normal. 

 

“The cuts, obviously.” He answered, voice a little gruff. “My weapon is more suited to bleeding a person.” 

 

“Oh… Oh, I can probably take care of myself,” she started to straighten, going to move away, and he gently grabbed her wrist. 

 

“Just let me get it,” there was a hint of exasperation to his tone now and that was enough to make her sit on the bed. He was more ready this time when her shirt came off and managed to focus more on the task at hand than the details of her body, though it was work to do so. He’d gotten several shallow cuts, for the most part, and one deeper gash that had bled all over the side of her shirt and part of her pants. He bandaged everything with patience he hadn’t even known he’d possessed for situations like this. 

 

She cleared her throat and thanked him, taking her shirt and her medkit back to her half of the room. He moved to lounge on his bed, quietly cleaning one of his knives. It bothered him that it was her blood that dirtied the blade. 

 

“Mental trials,” she finally said. As he glanced over, he saw Valor pad out from under her bed. Because his cat form was so clumsy, he had tried to avoid much of the physical trials. Learning to fight without him was a difficult thing for the redhead, but she’d managed something close to her usual skill. 

 

“What about them?” His tone had no respect for the danger the situation possessed. She sighed, messing up her hair even further with a distracted hand. 

 

“We’re both in hiding, and if they get inside our heads, they might see that.” 

 

He tried not to tense at the idea, because he had already considered it. “You can get around mental invasion,” he said idly, “but you have to have the brain power to do it.” 

 

She accepted Valor into her lap, petting the cat nervously. “You’re not worried about this at all, are you?” 

 

He shrugged. “I can’t bring myself to be. I can handle it, whatever comes.” Her winning had been a blow to his ego, but it was a minor dent, nothing shattering. He hoped that, because of the mental training, they would get access to whatever archives the Black Rose had - whatever libraries. He could find the general that way, he could feel it in his blood. 

 

His words didn’t comfort the redhead - but again, she was far from home, in dangerous territory, and her partner was essentially handicapped. She was at more of a disadvantage than the Noxian assassin. He could see the anxiety in her body language, but couldn’t think of a way to fix it - or understand why he even wanted to. So he let it go. 

 

At the sound of footsteps, her headband went back on. Their door opened and one of the small masked beings gestured at her. She set Valor down and followed it out into the hallway. The click of the door resounded off the walls and Talon felt uneasy at the abrupt silence. The room was much quieter without the Demacian, even though they hadn’t been speaking. 

 

Talon considered going through her things, since this was the only time he would really be alone with them, but he didn’t feel a pressing need to. She wasn’t the person he was after and she wouldn’t have information that he wanted. Why the scout was infiltrating the Black Rose was her own business - he could care less what Demacia wanted with this organization. He had an intense distaste for the new rising Noxus - and Swain and Leblanc were very much a part of it. Let the justice-worshippers keep tabs on them - it mattered very little to him. 

 

The time dragged by though. He cleaned his blades, sharpened them, and gave Valor an irritated look when the cat curled up on some of his clothes. He wasn’t annoyed enough to waste the energy. 

 

There was a dull thud at the door and his body ran still with tension. He slowly stood, blade in his right hand, and moved cautiously towards the door. When he opened it, he had to drop the blade to catch the collapsing Demacian scout. There was no one but her at the door and he maneuvered an arm under her to help her to her bed. She didn’t have any new injuries, but she was struggling to keep her feet. He felt adrenaline rushing through his veins, but there was no threat for him to focus on. 

 

Valor moved out of the way so she could be eased down. He pawed at her arm, examining her thoroughly, but finding no reason for her to be disoriented. He could smell magic, but what sort of magic did this? Though his experience was limited; it made sense that he wouldn’t have an all-encompassing diagnosis for arcane effects. 

 

Talon knelt before the bed to study her face and she seemed to be fighting to focus on him. That she was this addled made him uneasy - what was the mental trial were they being subjected to? 

 

“Quinn?” He finally asked, reaching to steady her when she swayed. 

“I’m all right,” the response was shaky, but immediate.  

He gave her a skeptical look, but didn’t verbally question her. “Perhaps you should sleep.” He wasn’t an expert on magical effects, but he was hoping she could just sleep it off. 

“I… you’re probably…” She nodded and she didn’t so much lay down as fall over. Valor helped her get situated, curled up on her side. Talon recognized an almost shellshocked look to her eyes, rather than magic, perhaps trauma. 

 

The door opened and another masked figure stood there. He followed it without question, trusting Valor to watch over the troubled scout. 

 

He was led to a small room, more purple fire and the other doorways covered by shimmering drapes rather than wood or stone. There was a single chair in the center of the room and he caught the faint glint of runes lining a circle around it. Steeling himself, he approached the chair and sat down. A man appeared in front of him, tall and cloaked in silver. His eyes shone green out of the hood’s shadows. “Welcome, Kavyn.” 

 

He inclined his head, knowing his expression was dismissive at best. The hooded man didn’t hesitate. “In this trial, we will take one of your early memories and see how well you stand up to past demons. Your history, if dug up, can be used as a chink in your armor - and the Black Rose prefers solid agents. Let us begin.” 

 

He wasn’t given enough warning and abruptly he was back in that hollow, Kavyn’s blood flowing down his arms, except this time, Kavyn was begging him for mercy. The first blow hadn’t killed him and the words were bloody out of his mouth. “ _ Please, please, don’t kill me. I’ll… I’ll do better, just…”  _ A cough, a spattering of blood.

 

Talon slashed out again and the worn blade hit home. Kavyn fell. This time, he had to look into the glassy eyes of his dead friend. He hauled the body up onto his thin shoulder and the weight was somehow more, as if he was weighing down his soul too. He was relieved when the body splashed into the water below. It was over. 

 

He was back in the hollow. Kavyn wasn’t injured this time, he had dodged the first strike, but he was backed into a corner. “ _ Please, _ ” his tone was just so soft, delicate, begging. Talon felt his heart twinge, his  _ conscience _ acting up. He hated it, but the hate was distant, as if the emotion was being suppressed. 

 

“You’re weak,” He spat, his hand brandishing the blade. “I can’t take care of us both - if I kill you, no one else can.” The other boy flinched away from the words, scrunching deeper into the dirt corner, hands up to protect himself. Talon threw himself at the other boy and instead of the almost-graceful slashing he’d managed even then, he was just stabbing, bringing down the knife repetitively until the body below him no longer moved, until the mud floor was drenched in the malnourished boy’s lifeblood. 

 

He stood up and backed away, his chest heaving. It was done.  _ Why, why?  _ His mind was racing.  _ Why kill him? Our first friend, our only friend, against the world. It was just us two. And now, it’s just us, just… me.  _

 

_ Selfishness. Spite. Petty anger.  _ He was a killer for those reasons - he played as if he’d killed the boy out of mercy but the truth was more disgusting than that, more reproachful. He’d been weak and he’d taken his own weakness out on the only friend he’d had in the world. He’d chosen his life over his friends, just as he’d chosen his life over countless others. How despicable, how awful. 

 

He felt his mind rebel against the enchantment and for half a second, he saw the purple-stained room again, the cloaked figure. Then he was back in that hollow and Kavyn was laying in his arms. Kavyn’s eyes were wide, glassy, dead. “ _ Why? _ ” His white-lipped mouth moved in his pallored face. Talon hesitated. 

 

“Because you’d failed me and I knew the next time you did, I could die. You could die. You weren’t… made for this sort of life. You were missing something vital to survive and… I wanted to make certain that you weren’t destroyed by someone who wouldn’t be as kind.” He paused and then he felt an echoing strength within him. “I had to survive, and you couldn’t. That’s all there is to it - and you need to go back to rest.” 

 

The body in his arms faded away, then the hollow changed into the Black Rose’s room. The cloaked figure leaned back. “What an… interesting start you had, Kavyn.” 

 

Talon felt the faintest shake in his limbs, but he’d worked through his guilt over his friend. He shrugged. 

 

“Interesting indeed… you are dismissed.” 

 

He felt better in the hallway, though the exhaustion the trial had caused was catching up with him. He wondered on his way back what had shaken Quinn so. The trial had been… quite unpleasant, but not to the degree that she had shown. 

 

When he opened the door, the room was mostly dark. He could see Valor’s eyes glinting across the room - he was near the head of Quinn’s bed. He could see very faintly her red hair past the furry thing - she must have removed the headpiece. He closed the door behind him and made his way to his bed through memory alone. 

 

As he sat down, he heard a faint sound, like a sharp intake of breath. He paused, spine going rigid, and when it happened again, he could identify that it was coming from Quinn’s side of the room. He started making his way over to her bed, intending to check on her. The closer he got, the more he realized it sounded like crying. Then his foot collided with something and he flew further forward than he intended. He caught himself with his knee on the edge of Quinn’s bed and his arm holding him up beside her head. 

 

His night sight had kicked in by now and he was looking into a very startled, very tear-stained face. He’d woken her up. He hesitated, starting to back away from the situation, but a sharp prick in his hand stopped him. Valor had placed a pointed warning claw over his hand, keeping him there. His feline face demanded the assassin do something.  _ Do what?! _ Talon thought, quite out of his depth.

 

“What’s wrong?” He managed, barely recognizing his own voice, so gentle, so soft. 

“I… I don’t…” She was still confused, likely by the magic. She couldn’t seem to piece a sentence together. 

“G-go back to sleep.” He went to leave again and there was that same claw, digging into his skin. He sent the cat a sharp look, but got only the same command in return. 

He kept his sigh internal. He pulled the blanket up over the scout, noticing that her eyes were fluttering shut even now. He shifted himself more onto the bed, laying beside her. It was probably the most awkward thing he’d ever done, but the feeling of her body next to his was oddly comforting. He wrapped an arm around her and laid his head down on the arm that Valor was still keeping hostage. 

 

He didn’t relax completely until her breathing had evened out. She was back to definitely asleep, her teartracked face peaceful in the darkness. He hated to think it, but he was beginning to view the scout as beautiful. He was starting to drift off when she whimpered softly and his arm tightened, drawing her closer. The whimpering stopped and he fell asleep wrapped around a Demacian knight, in an organization that neither of them even remotely belonged in. 


	12. Not Always As They Appear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (( Hiya, dollies! This one is a little shorter than most of the others, but I felt the next chapter's content and this chapter weren't quite close enough to merge them together.   
> Anyways, thank you for reading and remember that comments make me live! ))

There was something furry brushing across his face, but when Talon opened his eyes, all he could see was shining amber calmly studying his face from only a few inches away. He blinked slowly, weighing his options. If he moved away, would that look like running away? How did he even talk to her about this? 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Her voice was a little teasing and he felt himself pull just a little away. Frustrated with himself, he sat up. 

“No, you did.” The confused look on her face made him wonder just how much she remembered. “You… had after effects, probably from the trial.” He wouldn’t call her out for crying - it felt rude to do so. 

 

She sat up and edged back into the wall, giving him some space. “I don’t remember waking up… but I remember the trial.” The amber was haunted now and he wondered what she had seen - what memory they had tortured her with. She shivered, shoulders hunching, “The… in yours, did the memory… change?” 

 

He paused before he answered, weighing the options. Lying to her would win him nothing, but it felt like something he should do, but honesty also cost him nothing. “It… did change, in rather brutal ways.” He shrugged. “It didn’t matter much to me.” 

 

That didn’t seem to help her at all. Valor moved from above the pillows to crawl into her lap, giving Talon a reproachful look. He couldn’t explain why being chastised by the cat actually made him feel guilty. He stood, straightening his clothes. 

 

“We should gather with the others,” he said, convincing himself not to look at her again. Even the pain in her posture made him feel guilty - he didn’t like it. 

 

He heard her getting out of the bed before he left and she entered the meeting hall only a few minutes after he did. 

 

\---

 

They were given access to the library and Talon had to keep himself from smirking at the small victory. Closer, closer to his goal each day. He was no stranger to patience. They were to strengthen themselves mentally - apparently undertaking some of the tasks that summoners-in-training had to suffer, but in their downtime they were supposed to study the histories gathered in the library. History was powerful, Clawmore had informed them, and sometimes held the secrets to victory. 

 

He’d gone after the Noxian lore and noticed that the scout was down the same aisle, for some reason buried in books on Bilgewater. The haunted look was gone, but occasionally the glint of the eyes in shadow still held pain. He wondered again what she had seen, but it didn’t occur to him to simply ask. 

 

Quinn had picked a section at random and lost herself temporarily in the brutal bloody history of Bilgewater. The pirate haven and her strange Bearded Lady were definitely fascinating and it was just enough to wash away the new memories of her brother’s blood on her hands - for now, at least. 

 

“... said that Prince Jarvan struck the first blow,” the whisper forced Quinn out of her reverie and she glanced around the corner. In the Ionian section, one of the remaining neophytes was talking to another. Quinn took a couple steps towards them, unable to stop herself. 

 

“Struck the first blow?” She inquired, trying to sound mildly interested. 

The violet-eyed woman glanced up, her face somehow fox-like. “Yes. Kalamanda finally fell into battle - I’m surprised it took this long. They’re saying Prince Jarvan struck out at Swain first… there’s rumors that Darkwill was visiting and he was a casualty.” 

Quinn vaguely recognized the last name as the head of the Crimson Elite… did that mean Swain was the head now? She crossed her arms, fighting to maintain her mildness. “Have you heard anything else?” 

“The troops there, from Demacia and Noxus, have been fighting for two days now. The Institute is threatening sanctions.” 

Quinn nodded, taking a step back. “Fascinating. It’s surprising you can get any information at all in this place.” 

“Having good sources is key,” she offered a somehow poisonous smile and returned to her comrade. 

 

Quinn turned and made her way to the Noxian section, to the assassin pouring over a relatively new looking book. Though she usually wouldn’t have been so forward, in the wave of agitation the news gave her, she grabbed his arm. His eyes came up full of clear surprise. “Kalamanda’s turned into a battle,” her voice was low, almost a hiss, “Demacia and Noxus.” 

He straightened a little, “Have you heard of any involved?”   
“Jarvan, Swain… they’re saying Darkwill fell.” 

“Darkwill… Swain would rise, then,” the disgust in his voice was palpable and Quinn finally released him. He barely seemed to notice. Neither of them questioned why she had chosen to tell him - for her, it felt natural and for him, he didn’t think of it. The past month had made them into, if not friends, at least temporary allies. 

 

It occurred to them at the same time that they were helpless within these walls and some of the excitement drained out of them. She sighed and gestured at his book, “Anything interesting?” 

He shrugged, flipping a few pages further. “Nothing I was looking for - but interesting enough, I suppose.” 

“What were you looking for?” She understood immediately that the question was a mistake when his face, already hard to read, closed down further. 

“Nothing of consequence.”

The dismissal hurt, though she didn’t understand why. Without anything else to say, she moved to another section - the Blessed Isles, turned Shadow Isles. 

 

The next day passed in quiet study. Likely due to the explosion of war in another area, they were being left to their own devices temporarily. While she’d had more nightmares, these were much more contained and Talon had only checked on her once. He hadn’t gotten in claw range, though. 

 

They were sitting in relative silence, marred by the occasional flipping of pages, when a sharp squeak came from the floor beside Quinn’s bed. Talon looked up in time to catch the alarmed expression on Quinn’s face before she went for her small satchelbag. She pulled out a scroll that was faintly golden, one he hadn’t seen her with before, and jerk it open. Whatever she read seemed to upset her further, but she was out of bed in an instant.

 

He frowned when it appeared as if she were packing. Valor was sitting on her bed quietly out of the way, but his eyes were glittering with restrained energy. 

 

“Quinn?” His voice was hesitant, playing at disinterested. She glanced up as she was pulling her bag onto her shoulder. 

“I’ve been… summoned back.” She said, voice very soft. “It was expressed urgently.” She shifted from foot to foot, expressing some anxiety. The scout had immediately gone to follow orders, but it occurred to her that she hadn’t said a word to the Noxian. “So I have to go.” 

 

He was on his feet and he didn’t quite remember getting there. “How do you intend to get out of here?” He hadn’t  _ meant _ for his voice to come out challenging. “It’s a fortress.” He’d been planning his own escape routes, but for some reason, he hadn’t seen her as the type to have quite so much preparedness. 

 

“There’s a door to the outside in the library - Valor saw the librarian use it this morning,” she answered, checking her feet for the cat. He was waiting, patiently, glancing between both of them. 

 

For a long moment, it felt like time froze. Her leaving meant a separation - they’d spent so much time as each other’s only ally amongst enemies, the only lifeline while drowning in danger. They had to say something to end it, something akin to goodbye or good luck, anything. The silence stretched because neither knew what to say, where they stood, what they meant to each other now. Simply walking away felt… wrong. 

 

Finally, Quinn took a deep breath, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Her tone was oddly formal, and she moved past him towards the door. In an instant, he was beside her, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t even really know why he had stopped her - instinct had forced him. 

 

Another frozen second left their gazes locked. His intentions had been faded from memory as he studied amber depths. Hesitantly, he began, “I-” 

 

Whatever he’d been about to say was gone, whatever he’d been thinking was gone, because her lips were on his. A brief moment, half a heartbeat, and she had vanished. He couldn’t remember if he’d seen her move closer, or away, or why his reflexes hadn’t kicked in. He just stood staring at the doorway like a fool, trying to contain the strange buoyancy in his chest.  

 

\---

 

She’d expected more guards, more surveillance, anything really, but she’d gotten out of the Black Rose’s headquarters without a hitch. She wondered how powerful they could really be if a neophyte could just stroll out like that. 

The Noxian streets were dismal at night, but she managed to avoid prying eyes or running into danger. Outside of the walls, she breathed more easily. She removed the headband and shoved it into her bag, before fishing around for an even smaller scroll, this one a faint blue. The words on it glittered in the moonlight and she recited them. From her feet, a whirlwind of feathers erupted and rushed up past her face. 

 

She met eyes with the vibrantly excited Azurite eagle and grinned. “Let’s get home, Val.” 

 

\---

 

He hadn’t expected her to still be here, so he wasn’t sure why he’d come to the library at all. The buoyancy had left him feeling strangely hollow, an absence of something within him that he couldn’t quite place. He moved amongst the shelves, eyes idly scanning the books and headers without registering them completely. 

 

Then he stopped. In a corner section, near the end of Bilgewater’s small shelf, was a row titles “Persons of Interest.” He crouched and trailed a finger along the thin books - then realized they were more akin to files than anything else. 

 

He pulled two out together. One said Dakkar, the next said Darkwill. Alphabetical, then? He pulled out the next few and saw Du Couteau on one. With half of a victorious smile, he returned the others. 

 

The pages contained profiles of Marcus, his late wife, his daughters and, tacked onto the end, Talon himself. They were basic summaries of talents, abilities, and any specific movesets they favored, along with comments on their lives. 

 

There was a line near the bottom scrawled in red. “ _ Adept Kista sent to negate. Kista: fatal injury. Marcus: missing. _ ”

His eyes scanned up a little ways. “ _ Marcus is becoming a thorn. New Noxus will never rise with old blood clinging to a dying pedagogy - Noxus will never rise while being tied to brute strength. Must be dealt with.”  _

The final line on the page was hard to read, like half a thought scratched down, “ _ Traces of him have left the city. The last sighting has him in the west. Perhaps Demacia? W- -- --- place --- Noxian,”  _ He couldn’t decipher some of the words, but he got the gist of it. He took the file and straightened. This was all he’d needed from this organization and with nothing to keep him here - half a thought about amber eyes made his head spin just a little - he should leave as well. 

 

The next morning, the neophytes just assumed the close duo had failed a trial in the night. Clawmore’s bright smile never faltered - in fact, it seemed just a little brighter than before. 


	13. Homecoming

House Du Couteau stood proudly in the slowly growing sunrise. Talon hesitated at the front door, not too keen on what reaction his sisters would have at his return. While he’d always been a wild card, he had never just straight-up vanished before, and definitely for not this long a period of time. 

 

His eyes shifted to the roof. There was a hidden balcony one could get to through the attic. 

 

_ “Come ON.” He was still getting used to real sheets and now this fiery brunette, with the footfalls of a goddamn herd of elephants, was dragging him forcefully by his arm out of bed. He gritted his teeth and remembered his oath to his new leader, letting her pull him a few steps.  _

 

_ She hesitated at the sound of shoes on the floor and glanced down. “You wore shoes to… bed? Wow, you really are riffraff.” The dismissive tone had his free hand jerk towards one of his blades, but he stayed it. “Maybe don’t do that anymore - it’s bad for the sheets.”  _

 

_ But how was he supposed to be ready if someone came? Fighting in socks seemed so underprepared - the noble girl had probably never feared for her life. She would have no understanding of his world, his patterns. He hid a sneer in the shadow of his hood.  _

 

_ “Just… come on.” She insisted, and turned. She released him, but he followed, curiosity sparking. It was early - his internal clock told him it wasn’t long after six. She led him down the hallway, up the stairs, up a ladder. The dust in the attic was only disturbed in a central path between the ladder opening and a particularly large window. The dust particles swayed in the light before them, just beginning to grow.  _

 

_ She moved towards the window and climbed onto the window seat, shoving the glass open. She clambered out and he followed, his earlier disgruntlement completely replaced with his wondering.  _

 

_ It was clearly a space meant to be occupied, a little terrace hidden between two dormer windows that were curtained, and there was enough wall before them to hide them from the streets beyond the iron fence. He had perfect awareness of the space as soon as they entered it, but he didn’t understand the importance. _

 

_ “What are we here for?”  _

_ “Patience, swordman.” She answered. She gestured at a small stone platform that she sat on, gesturing for him to sit by her. He did, somewhat begrudgingly. “Now watch.”  _ _   
_ _ She pointed out, over the city. Above the dirt clouds, the sunbeams were beginning to push at the darkness. He’d seen sunlight before - more of it recently than in his childhood - but he’d never bothered with sunrises.  _

_ “What’s the purpose of-” _ _   
_ _ “How about you just shut up and watch?”  _

_ He bit his tongue, crossing his arms. He watched the ever-growing beams of light until the sky around them started changing colors. Red, to orange, the clouds decorated in a bright pink briefly like a child’s candy he’d seen once. In all his years, he’d never had the time or the safety to just sit and watch a sunrise. The realization hit him and he sat up a little straighter. He tried to study the light, chasing the colors as they faded with his gaze. He never saw the transition, the slow changes, but he noticed when they finished. Once the color show was over, Cassiopeia sighed contentedly.  _

_ “Beautiful, right?” She commented, standing. He didn’t grace her with a response, but the nature of his silence reassured her. “Come on - I need to make breakfast or else those two won’t eat.”  _

 

_ It all sounded so foreign, so strange, but somehow… secure. They had watched the sunrise. No one was coming for them - there was no danger, no risk. And now she was going to make breakfast. He was daunted by it all for a solid moment - then it settled in his heart, the beginnings of home. Something he had never experienced.  _

 

The comments of riffraff and streetrat had stayed for a little over a year. Cassi had alternated wildly from treating him as inferior, to sharing small bits of home. He glanced behind him, towards the rising sun, then slipped into the house, silently up the stairs. The window in the attic was open and he made sure to make just a  _ little bit _ of noise. 

 

The woman looked up from the sunrise and the sheer shock on her face almost made him smile. Then he had a snake wrapped around him. “ _ Where. Have. You. BEEN? _ ” The words were almost hissed and the edge of distress in her tone made him feel a lot more guilt than he wanted to. 

 

“Researching?” he offered lamely, hugging her back in an attempt to appease her. Her grip tightened into something almost painful and she pulled back, poking him a little in the ribs. “You’ve lost weight.” She grumbled, unwinding her tail and studying him. “Maybe we can get some food in you before Kat kills you.”

“She’s angry?” he asked, though he knew the answer. 

“She’s scared, Talon.” Her response took him off guard. Cassi crossed her arms, fixing him with a steely yellow stare. “Dad’s gone, the Crimson Elite are acting as if he’s dead, there’s political upheaval like we’ve never  _ seen _ ,” he could see tears starting in her eyes, then her rapid blinks to try and stay them. “Then you came up missing - no note, no warning, you were just… gone, for months. Then Kat had to go back to Kalamanda, the fighting started, and I was home in this big house, this big house that belongs to  _ us  _ as a  _ family _ , and realizing I was about to be alone in it. I was about to lose everyone.” The tears were free now, but the earnestness in her face didn’t let her hide them. “But I’m sure Kat was having the same thoughts, stuck in Kalamanda, fighting with Demacians.” 

 

He hadn’t realized that words could be sharper than his blades, but he felt the internal bleeding. He had the grace to look just a little ashamed, but he hesitated on an apology. It wasn’t in his nature to apologize - he couldn’t remember if it ever had been. But the pain and distress that he’d caused Cassi, so plain on her face, that had been wrong. This was his family, his  _ home _ , and he’d betrayed them, in a way. With a heavy sigh, he cast his eyes to the floor in an odd show of demureness. “Cassi… I’m sorry. I should have… left a note, something.” 

 

The serpent understood what the apology cost him and her expression calmed. “Come on… breakfast.” 

 

She had him settled with muffins in the kitchen when footsteps echoed on the stairs. Both of them tensed and waited for the redhead to turn the corner. She had exhaustion written across her face and she was still in the “waking up” process of getting ready for the day, but the moment she laid eyes on Talon, the grogginess melted from her face. Her eyes became green glass and there were no demands, no accusations, no questions. Just, “Training room. Ten minutes.” 

  
She turned her heel and the footsteps receded back up the stairs, this time much harsher. Talon and Cassi shared a look and the girl could barely hide her smirk. She had one way of dealing with things and Katarina had a far different way - Kat’s way was just more amusing sometimes. 

 

Talon didn’t want to fight the eldest Du Couteau, but he knew he didn’t have a choice now. It had been a long time since they sparred - they no longer challenged each other anymore. They knew each other’s movesets, tells, weaknesses, strengths. They’d moved past where that knowledge and exploiting it could make the other improve. 

 

As he stepped into the sparring room, probably the second largest room in the house, he felt the faint crinkle of power. The room was spelled so that blades couldn’t deal fatal wounds. Marcus hadn’t wanted any of his children accidentally killing the other, and he’d wanted to teach them without risking their lives as well. Talon had never bothered learning where the magic had come from. 

 

Katarina entered a minute or so after he did, dressed and wide awake, twirling a blade with her right hand. She didn’t say another word to him, moving to the central practice mat and taking up her usual neutral fighting stance. He took his place across from her and wondered why Cassi hadn’t come to watch. 

 

“Begin.” Her voice sent adrenaline surging through him, but he let her make the first move. She dashed and he sprung out of the way, but didn’t go for a counterstrike. She pursued, blades eternally seeking vulnerability, and so the dance began. It was vastly different from the dance with Quinn, because he wasn’t trying to land blows back. If Kat left too vast an opening, he took it, but he didn’t seek them out. This wasn’t a traditional sparring match - this was punishment, repercussions for his vanishing. 

 

She went for a low slash and his counteraction disarmed her, sending the blade spinning from her right hand. She hissed softly, wrath in her tone, and the blade in her left hand hit the floor. He was so surprised that she’d dropped her weapon that he had no chance to dodge the fist coming for his face. He took the blow fully on the jaw and it sent him stumbling. She’d put her entire body into it, so she was on her knees now. His back connected with a support post and he let himself slide down. 

 

She sat down, the anger faded from her face. She looked exhausted again as she rested her arm on her knee, studying him. “When Dad first brought you home,” she began, and there was the faintest quaver in the word “home.” She cleared her throat and tried again, “When Dad first brought you home, I asked him why we had a street rat in our kitchen. You were just standing by the counter, trying to look tough, but you looked lost. He took me in here and asked me if I remembered the loose assassin that had been giving the Crimson Elite hell and I  _ couldn’t believe _ it was you. I had imagined someone older, someone who looked dangerous and you - at least at first glance - looked hungry somehow, a little desperate, but you couldn’t be the assassin that Darkwill was sending our best to die to.” She half-laughed, shaking her head. “Dad said, ‘his life hasn’t been so charmed, Katty-Kat. He’s fought his way up from the literal gutter and cutting down that power, that determination, that talent - to do so would be a crime.’ I asked him if he intended for you to be a pet for us, a type of guard dog, and how could we trust you, near us, near Cass, and he got the strangest look on his face.” She reached for her blade, only a few inches away, and started fidgetting with it. “He told me he saw something in you, underneath all the talent and stubbornness. Something lonely, something scared. He guessed you were about sixteen, younger than me, and he guessed you were alone in the world. So he told me to take care of you, watch out for you like you were my little brother. I thought it was ridiculous - you were a murderer, without rules - but he’d asked so earnestly.” 

 

She threw the knife and the tip buried into the floor. Her face was lost in memory. “So I tried. Not very hard at first, because I couldn’t see past the class difference. Even when you proved as good as I was, I was hesitant to treat someone like… like you, like family, but then you got to me. I started seeing the hints of adoration in your eyes when you talked to Dad, the way you treated food as if it were a blessing not just sustenance to keep you going. I noticed that you walked the perimeter at night, as if guarding us, and how no matter scathing some of Cass’ remarks were, you never once fought against them. Somehow you went from intruder to friend. 

 

“It didn’t hit me, how young you were, until Stormstone,” he wanted to protest, remembering this story all-too-clearly, but the way she was speaking left him no room. “It was two years after you’d come home, Dad thought you were ready for high society, I didn’t doubt you, but I doubted the elite. I knew they would view you as lesser, they wouldn’t treat you with the respect, and I was already protective. Dad had me juggling the Blood Brothers, and you were off on your own. I could see the duchess near you, I knew she was a lightweight, but I didn’t think she would… Then I heard the scream and when I saw the blood, I thought she’d hurt you.” She ran her fingertips over her opposite knuckles, the faraway look in her eyes edged with danger. “I was going to kill her myself, damn the repercussions, but then I saw it was all her blood. So I took you away, let Cass and Dad deal with the political backlash. Getting you to explain what had really happened was such a trial.” 

 

_ He didn’t like the woman in front of him. She couldn’t be younger than forty, but the ring on her hand indicated that she was married or had been at one point. There was no lethal grace to her, unlike a lot of the Noxian elite, and it made him view her as less of a threat. Everyone was always a threat, but she probably ranked at a two on a one to ten. She leered closer and he disliked the scent of alcohol rolled off of her breath.  _

_ “So, Talon, tell me about the  _ **_streets_ ** _. Were they dangerous? How many times did you meet death?” Too close now and there was an odd fire to her eyes that he was certain he didn’t like. He slid a little backwards, avoiding, and felt the wall. He was cornered. His copper eyes narrowed.  _

_ She had followed the movement and she was entirely too close for comfort. Then she moved abruptly and he jerked back hard enough that he felt his head hit the wall. She smashed her mouth against his in her haste and then a second later, she jerked back, screaming. He hadn’t consciously decided to stab her, but one of his smaller blades was buried in her stomach. She stumbled back and he barely had the presence of mind to let go of the blade so he wouldn’t rip it out.  _

_ He was wide-eyed as she fell back, huddling over the injury and staring at him in shock. A crowd was quickly gathering and he saw Katarina shove through the crowd. Her eyes flitted over everyone, the blood on him, the duchess, and she grabbed his arm, pulling him away.  _

_ He felt a curious twisting in his stomach and wondered if he’d somehow gotten injured too, but there was an accompanying icy sensation running down the back of his neck. Was he… afraid?  _

_ “What happened?” Her tone was demanding, but also gentle somehow. He blinked up at the Du Couteau heiress and frowned. He could taste the alcohol the other woman had been consuming copious amounts of all night. He wiped his hand over his mouth and she tilted her head, suspicion blooming over her face.  _

_ “Right. Go up to your room, I’ll be there in a minute.”  _

 

It’d taken her about an hour to get there and she’d arrived with food and hot tea. She’d coaxed the words out of him, one of the most delicate things he’d really ever seen the redhead do. Talon watched his sister as she swam through memories, and when she looked up again, her green eyes were fierce. “So, don’t leave like that again, you understand me? You’re family, you’re our  _ brother _ . And you belong here with us, regardless of anything else.” 

 

He hesitated, and then he nodded. Their responses, their sheer  _ passion _ for his wellbeing, their desperation. He would have had to be made of harsher stuff to be unmoved by it and while he would have claimed he was stone, it would have been a lie. “I won’t.”   
“Swear it.” The intensity spiked and he gave another nod.

“I swear I won’t leave again, without at least warning.”    
  
The appeased her and she stood up, offering him a hand. He was reminded for just a moment of Quinn and he fought to keep his face blank. The assassin followed her to the kitchen, where Cassi was humming over brownie batter. She blinked yellow eyes at the two and offered a cheeky grin. “There’ll be chocolate soon - ease any aches you have.” She returned to her pastries, stirring contentedly. Finally she commented, “None of my connections even knew where you were - kind of impressive, really. Did you leave Noxus?” 

 

His mind hesitated.  _ Connections _ . Cassi was one of the most well-connected Noxian nobles - and she had maintained it, mostly through letters, after her incident. He ignored her question and asked, “Do you have connections in Demacia, Cassi?” 

 

She offered him a strange look but nodded. “Of course. I have connections  _ everywhere _ .” It was just a touch of hyperbole, but she was prideful about the knowledge she could gather so easily. 

The next words were out of his mouth before he had quite processed them, “Could you keep tabs on the Demacian scout and eagle duo?” 

“Quinn?” Kat interjected, one eyebrow raised. He offered her a neutral expression. 

“I could keep tabs on Quinn, easy.” Cassi said, setting her bowl down. “Any particular reason?” 

“Can’t I ask a favor without interrogation?” He offered, as smoothly as he could. 

He received a long blink, and then a nod. “For now.” She agreed, though the look on her sister’s face indicated that “for now” might not be very long at all. “You should start washing dishes, Talon, while I finish this up.” 

 

Grateful for his small miracle, he did as told. 


End file.
